


Monster (Frerard)

by TealrootsG



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:45:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealrootsG/pseuds/TealrootsG
Summary: Bert only liked Gerard because he did drugs with him, he was easy to manipulate. That was the reason Gerard's addictions got so bad. To the point of damage. He was angry when Gerard wanted to quit, but he wouldn't let him. It kept going on and on and nobody cared, until Frank decided to do something about what went on in the dark.





	1. Chapter 1

        Frank remained seated as everyone else walked out, their small celebration had died down ages ago, now Ray, Bob and Mikey were just leaving. Although, Frank stayed where he was, deciding to keep a close eye on his friend, who was passed out on the bed. Gerard's messy, black hair was hiding his face, one of his hands hanging lazily of of the edge of the bed, close to the whiskey bottle he had finished in less than half an hour.  
        Frank had hardly ever seen Gerard drink, so watching him drink a full bottle by himself had him confused.  
        However, the past few weeks had been busy, schedules cramped together and pressure suffocating the members of My Chemical Romance, which had led to Gerard hugging some sort of drink close to his chest every other day.  
        Frank, had indeed, noticed his gradually rising alcohol intake. Ever since The Used had been opened for them at a concert, Bert McCracken had been crowding around Gerard like a lost puppy. It had made Frank feel uncomfortable at first, then he kind of got used to seeing Bert's smug face wherever they went. Each day, for the past couple of months, Bert had found some way to wriggle in to their concerts and join them backstage. Frank had had a bad gut feeling about it, but he let it be. He had noticed Gerard had been more open, in the beginning.  
        Now, anyone could barely get a word out of him, let alone a fully formed sentence.  
   
      The changes in Gerard's mood worried Frank, to the point of watching him closely. He didn't want to become one of those people, but that's how it was turning out. 

        The small celebration they had had, had been for the 'I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love' album. It had become quite popular over the past months. The amount of people wanting to buy tickets to their concerts had increased considerably. Over a million CDs of their album had been sold.  
        It was crazy.  
        The new popularity had had an impact on them, they weren't used to the attention. Especially Gerard. When Frank would glance at him in interviews, Gerard would be shaking, tripping over his words as he would look anywhere a part from the camera.  
        As well as that, Frank had seemed to count the nights Gerard wouldn't come home. Usually, Frank stayed with Gerard overnight for company. But recently, Gerard hadn't even been home to be there for Frank to see him. Those nights ended up in unanswered phone calls and numerous worried texts. But, fortunately, the next morning, Gerard would come back, trudging down the basement stairs, putting Frank's mind at ease. 

        Frank's eyes were just about to flutter shut when a noise startled him awake again. Lifting his head up from the back of the chair, he looked over in Gerard's direction, to find him sitting up slowly on the bed. Crossing his legs underneath him, Gerard rubbed his eyes tiredly then wrapped his arms around himself, staring blankly at the bed sheets.  
        "Gee?" Frank said, hoping to catch an emotion, or some sort of action, from the boy on the bed.  
        A couple of minutes passed and he still gave no verbal answer, only little shivers once in a while.  
        "Gerard?" Frank pressed on, leaning forward in his seat, taking his hands out of his pockets to place them on his knees. He at least wanted a mumbled of acknowledgment. But, no. Gerard remained silent. So, naturally, Frank was a bit surprised when he moved to the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets to make sure he didn't fall as he outstretched his arm, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. "It's empty." Frank stated once he saw the disappointed expression on Gerard's face as he examined the empty bottle.  
        Clearing his dry throat, Gerard replied, "what happened?" In the quietest voice possible. Frank almost didn't hear him, standing and stepping closer, trying to work out what he could have said.  
        "What?" He gave up, sitting down on the mattress next to Gerard, who moved away a little. That may have made a dent in Frank's expression, causing him to feel slightly unwanted there.  
        Hesitantly, Gerard repeated, "wh-what happened?"  
        "If by any chance you mean tonight, you passed out around fifteen minutes ago." Frank explained, receiving a nod from Gerard, who then widened his eyes, a worried expression washing over his face. "What?" Frank questioned, trying to look at the boy's face behind his knotted, black hair.  
        "T-time?" Gerard gulped, checking his wrist for a non existent watch that he didn't own.  
        Furrowing his brows, Frank walked over to the small lamp they had switched on, then squinted at his watch. "Quarter to eleven." He stated, shoving his hands back in his pockets because it was freezing in the basement.  
        Getting his breath caught in his throat, Gerard coughed roughly before sliding off of the bed in a rushed fashion, going over to his phone, which was set down on the cabinet he had by the door. "I-I have to-to go..." He stuttered, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair.  
        "Again?" Frank sighed, tossing his head back in slight frustration. "Where? Where do you always need to go that's so important?" He asked, putting Gerard on the spot, causing Gerard to shift very uncomfortably on his feet before answering.  
        "N-nowhere. Just... Pl-please, leave." Gerard responded shyly, opening the door and motioning for him to walk out.  
        However, Frank didn't seem too fond of that idea. "No." He refused, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll wait here. I always wait here." His tone softened when he realised he was scaring Gerard a little. "I promise. I'll be here waiting."  
        Nodding his head slowly, Gerard seemed to be unsure of the whole situation, only exiting with a small wave of his hand. Frank called 'bye' after him just before the door shut. He doubted Gerard had heard him though. Sighing heavily, he rested back on Gerard's bed, inhaling the familiar scent. It smelled just like him, as if Gerard was lying right beside him. Closing his eyes in thought, Frank rolled on to his side, using his hands as a substitute pillow, seeing as the actual pillow was across the room on the floor. He wondered where Gerard could be going at such a time in the night.  
        Maybe he had meant what he said. Perhaps, he had just desired some time to himself. He might have actually gone nowhere in particular.  
        Deciding he was making a bigger deal of it than it needed to be, Frank let out a deep breath as he started to allow himself to drift of to sleep. 

-

        Opening his eyes wide, Frank tried to squint through the dark, wanting to know what it was that had woken him up. Staring through the pitch black was utterly useless. Nothing was visible to him, so he sat up, shuffling over to the light by Gerard's bed. When a dim light flooded the room, he was met with Gerard, who was on the floor on his back, quietly giggling to himself. Frank could tell because his ribs were moving with his shoulders as he laughed.  
        Now that he came to think of it, Frank could see Gerard's ribs quite clearly through the shirt he was wearing, paired with the black jacket suit, which was mostly tucked underneath him as he lied on the ground.  
        "Gee? What are you doing?" Frank questioned, puzzled.  
        A small cough escaped his lips, "I fell over." He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
        Sighing, Frank patted the space on the bed next to him, meaning for Gerard to join him, which he did. Not only did Gerard trip up before, but he had kicked over the whiskey bottle on his way over, that being the noise that had woken Frank up.  
        As soon as Gerard lied down beside Frank, he draped his arm over Frank's waist, causing him to jump. "What you doing there, Gee?" He smiled, turning over on his side so they were face to face.  
        "Nothing." He answered, letting out a long breath, making Frank scrunch up his nose, the smell of alcohol invading his senses.  
        "Gee?" Frank mumbled, eyes drifting shut, disappointed in what he had been drinking. He hardly wanted to know where he had been and what he had been doing, but a part of him needed to know. "What were you doing?"  
        There was no reply given, not even after a few minutes of silence. Cracking one eye open, Frank saw that both of Gerard's were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly while he slept, somewhat peacefully. Well, he appeared to be peaceful. A bit of guilt weighed down on Frank's shoulders, he didn't exactly know why.  
        Sleeping there, vulnerable, it was like Gerard was so innocent. His eyes were closed, having no hopeless expression on his delicate features; the dark rings around his eyes faded, as if they no longer existed; most of all: Gerard looked like he was content.  
        Frank wished he looked like that when he was awake. Peaceful. Happy. Content. Those were three emotions he hadn't seen in Gerard in a while. He wondered what could possibly be making him miserable. But, that was his business, if he wanted Frank to know, he would have told him. Right?  
        Still though, the annoying, nagging thoughts still resided at the back of Frank's mind. 

\- 

        Rolling over on to his side, Frank expected to see Gerard in front of him. However, the boy was nowhere to be seen, even as Frank sat up straight, scanning the room for other signs of life. Groaning rather loudly out of frustration, he pushed himself up off of the bed, swung his legs over the side, then proceeded out the door, heading up the stairs.  
        Mikey greeted him as he stepped in to the kitchen. It smelled lovely. He could easily guess why. "Pancakes?" He asked, instantly running over to the pan Mikey was stood at.  
        "You bet." Mikey beamed, flipping a pancake over. Sadly, he hadn't waited long enough and some of the mixture stuck to the pan. So, he ended up with more of a pile in the middle of the pan. "Damn..." He muttered, frowning.  
        Frank shrugged, "I'm all up for pan-piles." He chuckled, seating himself at the breakfast bar. "Do you know where Gerard is?" He wondered, resting his head on the palm of his hand.  
        "No..." Mikey breathed, "I was kind of hoping you would... Anyways, I'm sure he's just upstairs in the bathroom or something." He reasoned, this time succeeding in flipping a pancake.  
        "Nice." Frank commented, referring to the breakfast. 

        Half an hour passed, time flying by the two, who just sat there conversing with each other about nothing in particular. Mikey had managed to fill up five plates with three pancakes each. He had to admit too, he was quite proud of himself.  
        "Who are the other two plates for?" Frank pointed out.  
        "Bob and Ray. I told them to stay here the night since it was pretty late last night to be driving anywhere. Especially after we had all been drinking. I didn't want them to take the risk of driving." Mikey explained, sliding a plate along the counter to Frank, who nodded in understanding. "Actually, can you go and wake them up? I'm not wasting perfectly good food." Mikey smiled, hopeful.  
        "Sure." He agreed, getting up and trudging up the sitars. He was mildly tired. On his way up, Gerard brushed past him, apologising quietly when he accidentally touched Frank with his elbow. "It's okay." He trailed off, Gerard already scurrying off in to the kitchen. He thought that to be a bit weird.  
        Once he was in the bedroom - Ray on the bed, Bob on the floor - Frank kept silent, until he smirked and banged on the door really loudly, startling them both. "Time to wake up." He smirked, receiving death glares and daggers from the two, now annoyed, boys.  
        "What gave you the right to do that?" Bob remarked, running his hands down his face, getting up off of the bed.  
        "Yeah..." Ray mumbled in agreement.  
        Frank just shrugged, the smirk still present, "oh, no one. I thought it'd be funny." 

        They all wandered in to the kitchen, finding Gerard seated at the breakfast bar, head in his hands, sunglasses on. In their opinion, it wasn't even bright. The sun wasn't even coming through the blinds. "Hey." Ray smiled, jumping on a seat at the far end. Mikey shoved a plate his way, getting a wide grin in return. "Awesome." He stated, beginning to dig in his pancakes already.  
        "Since when did Micheal Way cook?" Bob scoffed, sitting down next to Ray after taking a plate of his own.  
        "Since he had nothing to do this morning." Mikey retorted, handing Frank a second plate, which he placed in front of Gerard before going back to his own.  
        The black haired boy shook his head, nudging them away with his fingers. "N-no, I can't." He said, tripping over his words.  
        Frank had noticed that too. He had started stuttering a few months ago. At first, he thought nothing of it, it was probably because he was tired. Then, he began to stumbled over his words more and more often, until it kind of became natural. The others might not have noticed these small changes in Gerard's behaviour. Perhaps it didn't matter. But Frank did notice.  
        Mikey frowned, switching the cooker off. "Why not?"  
        "I-I feel sick." He coughed, putting a hand to his mouth, though nothing stirred.  
        "Do you want to go back to bed, Gee?" Frank questioned, getting a small nod in response. "Alright." He smiled sadly, making his way down to the basement, Gerard following closely behind him.  
        Gerard dodged Frank a little, making his way over to his bed. Frank outstretched his hand to switch the light on, but Gerard shook his head vigorously, earning an 'okay' paired with an unsure nod.  
        "Are you okay Gee?" Frank asked, watching Gerard as he took off the sunglasses and lied down slowly, almost immediately closing his red-ringed eyes. He didn't seem to hear Frank's question, so he tried again, "are you okay?"  
        "I'm fine." Gerard coughed, wrapping his arms around himself as if he were protecting himself from something.  
        He sighed, running his hands down his face. "Are you sure? I can get you some water? You gotta stay hydrated, you know?" He added, thinking back to the last time he saw Gerard drink something that wasn't alcohol. It was a long time ago, surely that couldn't have been doing him any favours.  
        Again, the boy shook his head, bringing his knees closer to his chest, starting to drift off to sleep.  
         
\- 

        Ray and Bob had gone back to their own homes, leaving Frank and Mikey to themselves. The sun had set hours ago, stars appearing in the sky in it's wake. It was now nearing midnight. Gerard hadn't moved, although, Frank could only assume that because it was deadly silent down in the basement. Neither had seen him all day either. So they came to the conclusion that he was just extremely tired. Although, Frank supposed even he couldn't sleep through the whole day having slept the whole of last night too.  
        Maybe Frank was just overthinking things like he usually did. Perhaps it was all in his mind, taunting him with exaggerated situations.  
        Mikey entered the kitchen, stretching as he stepped over the threshold. "I'm going to bed." He yawned, looking at Frank through half lidded eyes. "The couch is all yours, if you want."  
        "Why can't I stay where Bob did?"  
        "You can... But... I don't know. I can't think of a reason why not. I'm too tired. You're welcome to sleep wherever the hell you want." Mikey shrugged, running his fingers through his hair as he trudged back up to his bedroom. The door clicked as he shut it quietly behind him.  
        The lights were off, the windows were shut and Frank felt quite lonely sitting in the dark. He knew there were people near him, but he couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness away. It bothered him.  
        Clearing his throat, he decided on checking on Gerard, who hadn't eaten or drank all day. He as beginning to grow worried. However, normally, when he attempted to get Gerard to do something, he got a 'no', shake of the head, or he would ignore him and run some place else. It was getting rather annoying, if Frank had to be perfectly honest.  
         
        Knocking gently on the door, Frank pushed it open, peering around the wood in to the dark room. "Gee?" He called out. As soon as he walked in, the smell of smoke hit him, causing him to cough and grimace, wafting the air away. He wondered how the boy could even stand the scent, it was disgusting. A bad habit too. When he went further in, smoke wasn't the only smell he could sense. There was one in particular, one that was illegal and incredibly stupid to take. "Gerard!" Frank hissed, stomping over to the black haired boy, who was sat in the corner, flinching noticeably when he got too close. "Are you insane? You can't take that!" He snatched the cigarette out of Gerard's nicotine stained, slender fingers.  
        "I-I'm sorry. Pl-please don't..." He stuttered, shielding his face with his hands, backing in the the corner.  
        Did he think Frank was going to hit him? Eyebrows furrowed, Frank knelt down in front of Gerard, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Gerard was shaking under his touch, a small cough escaping his lips.  
        After a couple of minutes, he sighed, standing up, crushing the cigarette in the ash tray. Glancing around the room, he spotted another two empty bottles by the bed, a packet of cigarettes on the mattress and a lighter on the pillow. "Gerard..." Frank mumbled, pity banging at the door to his mind. "You can't go on like this. How are you supposed to live like this?"  
        Removing his hands from in front of his face, Gerard gazed up at Frank with sad eyes, "I-I'll get better... I-I-I promise..." Brushing his jet black hair behind his ears, he arose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled over to the bed, collapsing sideways on it - not caring that he accidentally landed on the cigarettes.  
        Frank stared at him, frowning, "I hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

Morning crept over the horizon. Even though he couldn't see the sun, Gerard could sense it was early. Rubbing his tired eyes, he stood up off of the bed, swaying a little on the spot for a moment. 

He seemed to misjudge his balance. Next thing he knew, the floor met his face as he collapsed, eyes shutting again, a pain shooting up his side. Thankfully, Frank wasn't there. Gerard didn't want him to see him this way. It was embarrassing how useless he was and how easily he could give in to addictions and cravings. He barely remembered the days when he used to have control, somewhat.   
          
Not bothering to make an effort to budge, Gerard stared blankly at the walls with far away, glassy eyes. The black haired boy didn't have much care about what happened to him anymore. The meaning to his life was non existent. A certain someone had made that very clear.   
          
Eyes widening, the door creaked open, revealing a shocked Frank, who instantly rushed over to Gerard, kneeling over him. "Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, tucking some of the greasy hair behind Gerard's ear. He'd hoped he would have found him on the bed, or in a chair, not lying on the floor.   
          
Gerard thought for a moment. What really did happen? "I-I don't know... I was j-just st-standing." He murmured, shivering when Frank's warm fingers grazed his skin.   
          
"Come on." Frank sighed, holding his hand out to Gerard, who took it gratefully as he was pulled to his feet. The world around him started spinning, vision going in and out of focus. He blinked to try to see clearly, but it was no use. That wasn't all, because in two quick seconds, Gerard was sprinting up the stairs clumsily, knocking his shoulders on the walls. He had to get up the stairs.   
          
Eyebrows furrowed, Frank followed him in the kitchen. However, it was too late. Gerard was on his knees, breathing heavily as he threw up the contents of his stomach all over the tiled floor. "Oh, Gee..." Frank started, shutting his mouth because now wasn't the best time. Leaning over Gerard, he brought the boy's hair back so it was was out of his face. Frank sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as he listened to Gerard. He sounded so defeated? What could have possibly triggered it?  
          
Once he was done, Gerard shuffled backwards with an embarrassed expression on his face, he could feel his head heating up.   
          
Hesitantly, Frank spoke up, "are you okay?" Even though he could easily guess the answer, he wanted to know what he would reply with. But, it was Gerard, he never talked about himself, he always changed the subject or avoided the questions. Such as, the one Frank had just asked.   
          
For once, he decided against lying and shook his head. All of the bad memories and thoughts he had been dismissing with the alcohol came back to him. Hot tears built up in his eyes, making it hard to see. 

Sighing, Frank grabbed the necessary things, then cleaned the mess up, putting the things back where they belonged afterward.  
          
Crouching down beside Gerard, he helped him up, then they both walked in to the living room, neither of them saying a word. It stayed like that for a good couple of minutes: Gerard sat with his knees to his chest on the floor, leaning back against the sofa; Frank seated in a chair opposite, elbows resting on his knees as he tapped his foot nervously to no particular beat.   
          
He wanted to speak, he had to speak. But, Frank thought it best to let Gerard talk first - that was if he even wanted to. Maybe he just needed to company, or the reassurance that someone was there if he did feel the need to vent.

\- 

Shit. Frank thought, sitting straight up in the chair, suddenly alert and awake. He hadn't realised that he had fallen asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he scanned the room for Gerard, who had disappeared. Frank couldn't blame him though, he wouldn't have wanted to sit in the company of someone out of consciousness.   
          
Letting out a heavy breath, Frank shuffled in to the kitchen, finding no one. Not even Mikey, who was usually seated at the table on his phone. He thought it to be a little strange, though, could he couldn't expect people to be in the same places all of the time. 

Suddenly, a voice sounded behind him, causing him to jump before spinning on his heel.   
          
"There's sleeping beauty." Gerard chuckled, seemingly in a better mood. That alone made Frank smile widely, at the fact that his friend looked to be as if he was feeling alright.   
           
"And here comes Snow White." He retorted, looking at Gerard, who raised an eyebrow as he sat down on the floor, resting back against the arm of the sofa. "Because your hair is shoulder length and black, like hers in the Disney movie." Frank continued, answering his friend's unspoken question. Gerard nodded, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging his legs. "So..." Frank muttered, walking to stand in front of Gerard in the living room. But, he didn't get a chance to talk because Mikey wandered in, a small smile present on his features.   
          
"Hey." He greeted. "Cancel any plans you've got-"  
          
"Why?" Frank interrupted, folding his arms.   
          
"We're performing at a concert in two days. I'd get to packing your things if I were you. It takes at least twenty hours to get there."  
          
"D-don't we get a say in this?" Gerard stuttered, rising to his feet next to Frank.   
          
Mikey sighed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry brother, it's already booked, we thought you guys wouldn't mind..."  
          
"We?" Frank queried.   
          
"Me... Ray, Bob, Brian." He said quietly, shifting his weight to his other foot. "We're going to the New Orleans, by the way. We'll only be there a couple of days, don't worry."  
          
Frank nodded, not uttering another word as he went past the younger Way brother and up the stairs, Gerard at his heels - which he found a little strange. But, he wasn't complaining.   
          
Of course, Frank didn't mind performing. It was the short notice that he wasn't very fond of. Also - being a band - they were supposed to make the decisions together. They were supposed to communicate well amongst each other, not spring information on one another.   
          
Tapping Frank gently on the shoulder, Gerard spoke up behind him, "I-I'm not... I don't want to - do we have to go - I-I mean, I don't feel comfortable going u-up on stage right now."   
          
It crushed Frank to see his friend nervous. "Why? You were okay a couple of weeks ago. In fact, you the most eager out of all of us." He replied, not understanding his behaviour. "What's wrong?"   
          
Gerard hesitated, opening his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he shook his head, turning away from Frank. "it doesn't matter..." He breathed, scratching the palm of his hand.  
          
Grabbing Gerard's arm, Frank stopped him from going any further. He swore he heard the boy whimper as they made contact.   
          
"Pl-please Frank.." He whispered, refusing to look him in the eyes as he slowly pulled his arm away.   
          
A frown formed on Frank's lips. "You know, Gee, if something's bothering you, if something's the matter, you can tell me."   
          
Gerard nodded, "everything's fine." He turned away, pulling his sleeves down as he trudged back down the stairs. Frank watched him go, thinking he might have to talk to Mikey about it. Only because he knew Gerard probably wouldn't.   
          
Although his friend claimed he was fine, something was off. Frank could sense it, but he didn't know what it was. Maybe if he did, he could try to fix it. Everyone who knew Gerard knew he wasn't an open person, so the truth would be hard to get from him. Despite that, Frank was willing to try.   
          
Leaving those thoughts at the back of his mind, he began packing the things he would need. Fortunately, it didn't take very long because he already had a few things ready, just in case of times like this. 

-

There was no doubt about it: Gerard was nervous. They'd only been performing a mere couple of weeks ago, yet, he still felt sick to his stomach. He watched the world blur by in a series of dull colours. Winter was nearing and the leaves were turning brown on the trees they passed. The noises around him, like the voices of Mikey, Frank and Ray, were drowned out as his choice to listen to music.   
          
Frank noticed Gerard's discomfort, so he leaned over, asking, "Gerard? You alright?"   
          
After realising Frank was sitting closer to him, Gerard switched his gaze from the window as he pulled his headphones from his ears. "What?" He said, barely managing a voice above a whisper.   
          
"Are you alright?" He repeated, receiving no more than a brief nod. 

-

All too soon they were there. Everyone was aching from sitting down for so long, but most of them didn't mind, most of them were too excited to be there to notice. "You're on after The Used." Brian explained, turning around in his chair to face them all. "But that's not until later tonight, so, feel free to do whatever, for now." He nodded, getting up and off the tour bus to meet The Used, who were already there.   
          
Mikey was the first to stand up, shrugging as he spoke, "anyone wanna come with?" Glancing around, he noticed Frank, Ray and Bob nodding their heads, then he caught a glimpse of a passed out Gerard in one of the bunks and frowned.  
          
"I'll go. I feel like I haven't moved at all since yesterday." Ray yawned, scratching the back of his neck. Bob agreed with Ray as he stood up, joining Mikey at the front of the bus.   
          
"Frank?" Ray said, nudging him in the ribs. "You coming? We're probably going to get some food. After you set the pan on fire, I think some take out should be good."   
          
"Hey," Frank frowned, "I'd like to see you do better."   
          
"Fine. I will when we get back. Can't do worse than you, can I?" He teased, earning a scowl and a slap to the back of the head from Frank.   
          
"What about Gerard?" Frank questioned, looking over his shoulder at the singer, who was currently lying on top of the sheets, jacket off and hand hanging off the edge.   
          
"He'll be fine," Mikey replied, shrugging, "he sleeps in all the time. Guess he's exhausted. We should leave him here to rest, when it's time to go one stage, we'll wake him."   
          
"Sounds like a plan." Bob spoke up, stepping off of the tour bus and out in to the sun, where he shielded his eyes because of how bright it was.   
          
Frank stood up, but paused. "What if he wakes up while we're not here and he panics or something?"   
         
"Write a note." Ray suggested, following Bob out.   
          
Frank nodded, fetched a scrap piece of paper from the stack of books and magazines, then wrote that they were going out. He was sure Gerard would be fine, hopefully. What could he possibly do anyway? 

\- 

Time ticked by, minutes turned in to hours and, too quickly, it was time. While the others got ready, Frank decided to go and get Gerard. Honestly, he thought the singer would have been up by now, but, when he entered the bus, all he saw was Gerard unconscious on the floor. It was some sort of movement, although it wasn't very successful as he was lying in the way. When Frank stepped closer, he could see the empty bottle in Gerard's clutches, some of the liquid dripping out and soaking in his hair as it made a small puddle on the floor.   
          
Sighing, Frank crouched down, prying the bottle from the singer's fingers before gently stroking his hair back away from his face. "Gee?" He whispered, shaking his shoulder to try and wake him up as peacefully as he could manage.   
          
Eventually, after a couple of minutes, the boy stirred, scratching the side of his face where Frank's fingers had been brushing his hair back. Slowly, his eyes began to open, squinting in the light.   
          
"Who's the sleeping beauty now?" Frank teased, setting the bottle down out of the way and standing up, looking down at Gerard, who gazed up at him sleepily with dark rings around his dark eyes. The guitarist held his hand out for him, which he took. Gerard coughed when he stood up, putting his hand over his mouth as the pain in his chest grew worse. "You okay?" Frank asked, feeling like it was the thousandth time he'd said it, tone laced with concern. He sat Gerard down, taking the seat next to him.   
          
Even after he stopped, he kept his hand over his mouth, fearing he might throw up.   
          
Frowning, Frank fetched a glass, filled it with water, then handed it to Gerard, who took it gratefully. He noticed the singer's hands shook as he took sips of the water. "We, uh, we're on in a bit... Are you up for it?" He asked, resting his head on his hand, which was on the table.   
          
Hesitantly, Gerard nodded, "I-I'll be fine."  
          
"Are you sure?" He nodded again. "Cause if you don't-"   
          
"Frankie," Gerard interrupted, "I'll b-be fine. Just... You guys go ahead. I-I'll catch up, I just n-need to... Get ready."   
          
"Okay. Sure. I'll see you backstage, Gee." Frank waved goodbye, reluctant to leave, he wasn't sure if Gerard would even show up. It would have been really bad if he didn't because people had paid to see them live and they would have been disappointed if their effort was wasted.   
          
As soon as Gerard was sure the guitarist had left, he rushed to the back of the bus, knelt down by his bag and unzipped it hurriedly. If he was going to perform, he needed a confident boost. A small smile plastered itself across his face as he pulled out bottles of beer from his bag, instantly opening them and raising them up to his chapped lips. The burning sensation in the back of his throat was all too familiar. Knowing one wasn't enough, he grabbed another, throwing the empty one to the side.   
          
    
Soon enough, he had lost count, pausing half way through another beer as he felt awful. Gerard stuffed the empty ones back in his bag, zipped it up, then raced outside, doubling over and clearing the contents of his stomach on to the concrete - which wasnt that much. Trying to remain standing, he clutched his stomach, black hair falling over his eyes. He hoped to hell no one was watching him. It was embarrassing when people saw him at moments like that.  
          
Gerard wiped his mouth on his sleeve, regretting the last two drinks. He should have stopped himself at five, but his addictions were getting worse and he didn't know how to control them.   
          
Remembering what he was really there for, the singer walked off to join the others backstage. 

\- 

A smile spread across Frank's face when he spotted Gerard coming over to them. "Hey, you made it." He cheered, alerting the other's, who glanced up from what they were doing to see what was going on.   
          
"He's alive." Ray joked, slinging the strap of his guitar over his shoulders. Bob smiled at him before sitting down at the drums.   
          
Mikey, who was stood beside Ray, grinned, happy to see his brother out of bed. "I'm glad you decided to show up."   
          
"Well I can't let everyone down now, can I?" Gerard giggled, leaning on Frank's shoulder as he put his arms around him, gazing up at his face adoringly. Frank just smiled awkwardly, not sure how he was feeling about all of this. It was one thing being drunk, it was another thing being totally wasted. And truthfully, the guitarist would have preferred it if Gerard had stayed inside if performing meant he was going to be pissed off his head.   
          
"Well..." He started, picking his instrument up off the floor and hanging it around his shoulder, with difficulty as Gerard was still leaning on him while biting his nails. "Let's go." 

\- 

"Alright." Gerard began, pacing the stage as people in the front reached up to them with bright faces. "This song... Is about mine and Mikey's grandma. It's rather personal." He wiped his nose out of habit, walking to the front of the stage, dragging the microphone wire behind him and wrapping it around his wrist. "If you guys know the lyrics, feel free to sing along." 

    
Frank kept his eyes on Gerard for most of the show, fearing if he tore his eyes away for one second, something bad would happen. He knew it probably wouldn't, but there were still horrible nagging thoughts at the back of his mind. So far, the worst thing the singer had done, was almost trip over the wires on the floor. Other than that, it seemed to be going just fine.   
          
Mikey appeared tired out from not getting enough sleep the previous night. Ray was concentrated on his guitar and Bob was enjoying himself, hitting the hell out of the drums. The crowd was fantastic, they all sang along in unison, drowning out their instruments and Gerard's, mostly out of tune, singing.  
          
The black haired boy felt quite light headed as he jumped around on stage, putting a lot of his effort in to screaming the lyrics to 'Our Lady Of Sorrows'. At first, he had thought they were shouting Starbucks. Then Frank had told him what the fans were really chanting. Until his headache subsided a little, Gerard crouched down on one knee, hair covering his face as he sang. 

"Take my fucking hand and never-"  
     
-  
    
The stars were beginning to light up the sky as the band returned to their tour bus. The crowds had died down ages ago, mostly everyone had left because of how late it was getting. Ray, Mikey and Bob strolled on ahead, while Frank and Gerard trudged behind them. The singer was leaning on the guitarist again, he was certain it was likely he would have fallen over if he didn't have someone guiding him. 

As they carried on, Gerard's steps got smaller and slower, to the point where he just stopped altogether. Furrowing his brows, Frank turned around at the absence of Gerard's hand on his shoulder. 

The black haired boy stared ahead of him, failing to focus on one thing in particular. The whole world seemed to double by the second the more he stood there, swaying a little on his feet. 

A gasp escaped Frank's lips as he watched the singer's eyes roll to the back of his head, his body going lifeless as he collapsed to the floor, landing on the cold, hard unforgiving concrete. Frank's scared eyes widened, rushing to his friend's side, gently moving him so he was lying on his back. 

He didn't know what to do. 

Frank was clueless and speechless as he knelt down next to Gerard before scanning the surroundings desperately for anyone who might be able to help. Alas, he saw no one in sight, even the three other band members had scurried off to the bus, completely oblivious and unknowing to what had just occurred around the corner. 

"Gerard?" Frank stroked the hair away from his friend's face, leaning over him as he looked for any signs that Gerard was conscious. But, the singer just remained motionless, only his chest raising and falling, telling Frank he was somewhat okay. Growing more and more worried by the second, Frank didn't dare to leave, even though he needed to fetch help. He just couldn't stand the thought of something happening if he wasn't there.  

Frank was rendered useless and helpless as Gerard began to shake violently. Luckily, it only lasted a few seconds before he went limp again.

The guitarist stayed with him, dug his phone out of his pocket, then called Mikey for assistance. He really didn't know what else to do, which made him feel awfully guilty. During the minutes before Mikey got there, Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard, resting his friend's head in his lap to make him feel a bit more comfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

Frank was tired, but he pushed the thought of sleeping to the back of his mind. If taking care of Gerard meant he had to stay up all night, he would. Mikey had gone off to talk to their manager about the concerts they would probably miss. Ray had kept a hopeful mind that Gerard would be able to perform. Bob had joined Mikey. 

So now, Frank was the only one left on the tour bus as the others had told him they were going out. Countless times Mikey had tried to persuade him to go with them, but Frank wouldn't budge. Ray had insisted Gerard would just wake up with a hangover. 

But they didn't see what Frank saw, which was something more troubling than just drinking. 

It was pitch black outside and the guitarist only had one little lamp on. It was dim, but that didn't matter because he could still see the faint outline of Gerard, who was lying on his side on one of the bunks. His knotted hair was over his pale face - as usual - and his clothes dirty as he hadn't had a shower in five days. Even though he appeared like that, Frank couldn't deny he still looked beautiful. 

Eventually, Gerard stirred, bringing his hands to his face to rub his eyes. His head burned with a familiar feeling, but he ignored it and began to slowly push himself in to a sitting position. Resting his elbows on his knees, he brought his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting facing Frank, who had a sympathetic expression plastered across his face. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked, the words ringing through Gerard's ears as if he was shouting down a tunnel. The singer failed to answer, staring at Frank with a defeated, pained expression. "Are-Are you... Okay?" 

He cared. Gerard could see that he genuinely cared, that alone brought hot tears to his eyes, a low happy feeling of thankfulness in his dead heart. Letting out a deep breath, he nodded once as he got up and sat down beside Frank, leaning in to him, putting his head on his chest. 

Surprised by Gerard's actions, he wrapped his arms hesitantly around his friend, resting his chin gently on the to of Gerard's head. "Do you remember anything?" He spoke up after a few minutes of peaceful silence. 

He thought about it. Nothing came to mind, only the first half hour of their performance showed to be successful at remaining in his thoughts. Closing his eyes, Gerard shook his head. 

"Alright..." Frank nodded, "would you like anything to eat or drink? You haven't had much and it might make you feel better..?" 

A small, quiet, almost unnoticeable laugh escaped Gerard's lips as he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. "You n-nearly burnt the bus down... The last time you tr-tried to cook wasn't m-much of a success..." 

Scowling, Frank rolled his eyes, "I did not nearly burn the bus down... I just... Set fire to the pan is all." Gerard smiled a little, turning his head to gaze up at Frank, who had a huge grin on his face. Almost immediately, Frank caught his friend's eyes and switched his gaze to him. "Do you feel any better?" 

Gerard dropped his stare from Frank, changing the subject, "wh-where's Mikey?" 

"Out. I don't know. All I know is that they all left... Four hours ago." He muttered, checking his watch for the time. The black haired boy mumbled 'okay' before getting up and trudging to the front of the bus, a bit unsteady on his feet. Frank watched silently as the singer snatched his headphones from the table, along with his phone, then sat down by the window, staring out at the stars. He plugged them in, placing the headphones over his ears to drown out the real world. 

Frank didn't bother trying to talk to him after that, he just sighed heavily, falling back on to the bunk, eyes shutting. He knew Gerard had avoided the main question: was he okay? 

~ 

It was night, or very early in the morning, surely that meant Frank was allowed sleep. But, apparently, Mikey, Ray and Bob couldn't let that happen because just after the guitarist had finally managed to drift off to sleep, the three came bundling in, laughing and joking as they tripped over each other's feet. Beer bottles in there hands. "Careful." Mikey snickered, a bit quieter, putting a finger over his mouth as a sign for Ray to stop talking. 

"It's not me." Ray defended, pointing at Bob. 

Scowling, Frank sat up, scratching the back of his head as he yawned, "it's all of you." He accused, receiving shrugs from the other three. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He asked, getting no response from them at all, just slightly guilty faces and frequent glances. 

"It's four thirty in the morning." A quiet voice said from by the window. Gerard was sat, head resting on the table as he made circles on the wood with the tip of his finger. He had been wide awake all night, staring in to nothing, his mind racing a mile a minute with thoughts. How could he sleep when there were so many things going on that he could barely keep track of? 

Frank's head turned to Gerard, spotting him in the exact same place he had been in the entire time. "Oh, I didn't know you were still awake." He muttered, earning just a single nod from the singer. "Aren't you tired?" Gerard shook his head, although, he really was tired, he felt like he could just collapse in to a deep sleep. Despite that, he remained awake. 

Bob placed his half empty bottle on the table, then wandered over to his bunk and flopped backwards on to it. He was exhausted and had a headache, so rest sounded wonderful. Letting out a deep breath, Ray poured the last contents of his drink out on to the concrete at the door to the bus before throwing it in the bin and lying down too. Mikey, not being like the rest, decided to stay up for a while longer, only sitting down on the edge of his bunk - he wasn't too tired. Frank watched them all silently, glad they had chosen that option rather than carrying on at being loud and disruptive. 

It was there. It was just there and Gerard had told himself he wasn't going to drink it. Yet, he wished for that burning sensation he missed at the back of his throat. Bob's half full beer was so tempting as it was right in front of Gerard, taunting him. Staring at it longingly, the voice of Frank was drowned out in the singer's mind as he had an internal debate with himself. Deciding against it, before he could change his mind, Gerard got up abruptly and trudged over to his bunk. He lied down, facing Frank with his hands underneath his head and his hair over his face. The guitarist did the same, gazing at Gerard, who stared at him right back. They looked at each other as if they were having a conversation, one that didn't include words, only expressions that told stories. 

The two remained like that, until the singer's eyes shut and his face returned to a peaceful one. A look on Gerard that Frank hardly ever saw. It wasn't long after that the guitarist fell asleep too, along with the other three band members. 

~ 

Mornings were always the worst. It was the time of day when most people were drowsy and slow. For Frank, it was his favourite time of day. He loved new starts and the possibilities of what he could achieve in that day, though, he never really did do anything extraordinary. Seeing as he was already lying wide awake, he made the choice to get up and eat breakfast. The others were still asleep, snoring. Sighing, Frank pushed himself up, then went over to the cupboards, rummaging through them to try and find something decent. Living on the road most of the time did have it's disadvantages. 

Maybe, when they were all up, Frank supposed they could all go out for something to eat at a café or something. He doubted they would trust him near heat again anyway. Especially in a tour bus. Glancing around for something to do, he noticed Gerard wasn't there. Brows furrowed, the guitarist pivoted on his heel, scanning his surroundings. 

"Anything wrong, Frank?" Brian asked as he stepped on to the bus, startling Frank as he did so. 

The guitarist hadn't expected it. "No, no..." He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. 

"I was just organising some concerts and signings for The Used." Their manager explained as he took a seat, looking briefly at Frank, who shuffled around on the spot awkwardly. 

"Alright... Have you see Gerard?" He questioned, grabbing some clean clothes from his bag to change in to. 

Brian nodded, "I was just with him, well, he was with Bert. Why?" 

Frank shrugged, "oh, nothing." 

 

Once he was dressed, washed and presentable, the guitarist made his way outside, wincing in the blaring sun. He would have preferred it if the weather was cloudy or raining. Those were much better than the sun - in his opinion. All the sun did was drain his energy and give him a red face. The rain looked beautiful to some extent and when it was cloudy it was cool rather than hot. 

Taking a deep breath, Frank set off, spotting a few figures in the distance, all with bottles in their hands. Unfortunately, when he got nearer, he could see that their singer was one of those figures. Gerard had a stupid smile slapped across his face, an almost finished beer in his clutches and a cigarette hanging loosely from his chapped lips. 

"Gerard?" Frank cleared his throat, suddenly feeling intimidated. After all it was six to one. 

"Oh, hey Frankie." Gerard slurred, making it pretty clear that wasn't his first drink. 

The guitarist shifted his weight to his other foot, darting his eyes at the different people - one of them being Bert, who had his arm draped over Gerard, a cigarette between his fingers. A weird feeling swept over Frank and he didn't like it. There was a strange smell that hung around, but he knew it wasn't just because non of them probably hadn't showered in a few days. It was something else that Frank couldn't quite work out. 

"What do you want?" Bert snapped, taking another drag from his cigarette, tightening his grip around Gerard's shoulders, causing a brief scared expression to flash on the singer's delicate features. 

"Well..." Frank trailed off, not really knowing what to say. He didn't even know why he was standing there. Perhaps he just felt the need to be uncomfortable. "Mikey wants Gerard so they can go over some of the bookings... Because we're doing a couple or more concerts while we're in the area." He half lied. Some of it was true, they were staying in the area a little while longer. 

"No worries. I'll come." Bert smirked, stomping out his cigarette. 

Frank's mood dropped, "no, you can't. Well, you don't have to. There's really no point." 

Gerard laughed a little, leaning in to Bert as he tripped over his own feet, beer spilling from the bottle, "come on, Frankie. Let him come." 

He knew he was going to regret it. But, he didn't want Gerard to be mad at him, so he - very reluctantly - let Bert come as well. Frank turned around, slowly edging towards their tour bus as Bert and Gerard parted ways with the other four people. He didn't know why the black haired boy even bothered to hang around with Bert McCracken. Maybe Bert was kind to Gerard, maybe he was a nice guy when it was just those two. However, Frank didn't want to think about the two singers alone. 

They didn't even last in a couple of minutes of silence before he heard talking and flashing cameras behind them. "Great." He muttered, sighing deeply as he turned back around to face them all. Bert and Gerard seemed quite happy standing there while people fired questions at them. A small scowl was present on Frank's face, couldn't they be left alone? It wasn't the greatest time and the guitarist just wanted to get back to the bus before he murdered someone out of the anger that was beginning to boil up inside of him. There was only so long he could be nice to people. He held back a scoff when he saw Bert and Gerard so close together, they could have merged in to one person. 

The singer from The Used had his arm around the black haired boy's waist, a little too low down his back and still gradually falling. But, Gerard was too drunk to care at that moment. 

Frank stepped forwards, managing to hear some of the questions being shot at them by women with wide smiles, who stood by men with cameras. 

"There's a rumour going around that you two are dating." A reporter said, making Gerard laugh a little and shift uncomfortably on his feet. Frank knew the singer didn't like to be out on the spot. "Is this true?" 

Bert chuckled, tucking some of his long hair behind his ear. "Well..." He started, but Gerard finished for him.

"Me and Bert, we don't..." He paused, glancing at the man beside him as he laughed quietly with Bert joining in. "We don't date." That caused Bert to let out another small laugh. "We just... Go out in a m-musical sense... On the road." He explained, failing to keep some of the laughter down, wiping his nose out of habit. 

"There's actually a picture." The singer from The Used added as the camera focused from Gerard to him. "His mum gave me it for my birthday. I still have it on the bus." 

"It was taken from our first tour together." 

Frank couldn't believe half of what he was hearing. He stood at the back, arms folded over his chest as he looked between the two. He was sort of relieved and annoyed that no one was bothering him. All the attention was aimed at the two singers, who seemed content answering the numerous questions. The guitarist turned away, gazing at nothing in particular, scratching the back of his head. He didn't know why, but, it did in fact bother him that Bert and Gerard were spending so much time together. It wasn't like they had to do everything with each other. Deciding they should all just leave, Frank turned to face them again, only this time, he wished he hadn't. 

Bert had his hands either side of Gerard's face, the black haired boy leaning in. Stupid smiles on both of their lips as they kissed. 

A camera flashed and the moment was captured in a picture forever, making a frown form on Frank's features. 

~

He lied on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Everyone else was asleep while the guitarist remained awake, running things over in his head. He wasn't quite sure why there was one particular moment stuck in his head, but, he did know for a fact that he didn't like it. Sighing deeply, Frank rolled over on to his side and put his hands under his head as he fixed his eyes on a point in front of him. All he wanted to do was sleep, yet there he lied, completely wide awake. 

Although, he wasn't the only one anymore. A confused expression washed over his face as he sat up a little, watching the person who had just got out of their bunk. Straight away, he could guess it was Gerard, by his coffee and smoke scent, the long, black hair and his habit of scratching his palm when he became nervous. 

It was in the middle of the night and Gerard was sneaking around. Normally, Frank would have asked him where he was going or what he was doing, but after many experiences of getting no actual answers, he decided to leave him be, for now. Then tomorrow he was going to burn that awkward bridge when he felt the need to come across it.


	4. Chapter 4

They had another concert today and Frank was unsure of it. It was only a couple of hours until performance, but he knew the day was just going to drag out. By checking his watch, the guitarist discovered it was quite late already, so he forced himself to get up. Everything felt like it was spinning as he stood up because he'd gotten up too fast. Sighing, Frank rubbed his eyes, finding Mikey, Ray, Bob and Brian all facing him with blank expressions. To be honest, it was slightly creepy. They were all staring at him like he had five heads. "What's up?" He asked, feeling uncomfortable, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

Ray, who had his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the wall, spoke up first, "we need to talk." 

Frank attempted at lightening the damp mood. "If I was a girl, I'd think you were all breaking up with me." 

But, still, they all kept straight faces, which continued to worry Frank. Mikey cleared his throat, switching his gaze from Frank to stare at his hands. "We found..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "We found cocaine in one of Gerard's suits." 

He knew it didn't really matter at that moment. However, he asked anyway, "why were you looking through his clothes in the first place?" 

"Don't stand up for him." Bob said, earning a scowl from Frank. 

The guitarist was about to reply when Brian took the opportunity first. "We weren't looking through his clothes. Mikey was tidying the tour bus a little when he picked up Gerard's jackets... And they fell out." He explained, getting an "oh" from Frank, who just hung his head. "We know you're closest to him-" 

"Mikey's his brother for crying out loud." Frank pointed out, gesturing to the bassist with his eyebrows raised, knowing exactly what he was about to tell him to do. "I can't talk to Gee. What if I screw things up and he hates me? What if... I don't know. Just... Get Mikey to talk to him. I can't do it." He had no idea why he refused so strongly. It wasn't that he didn't particularly want to confront Gerard, it was the fact he might screw their friendship up. If Mikey talked to him, it would be different because they were brothers and Gerard would be more likely to listen to his own brother. 

Ray shook his head, "no, Frank. We need you. It's highly likely he'll listen to you more." 

"Why? Why me? What's so special about me?" The guitarist glared, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

Mikey sighed, putting his head in his hands for a brief moment before answering, "you're his best friend. If it was me talking, he'd think I was against him because we're brother's. With a best friend it means something." 

"I don't get it. He'd think I was against him too. What the difference?" Frank huffed. Brian opened his mouth, ready to explain further, but all of their heads darted to the door as it opened, revealing a dark eyed, messy haired Gerard, who stumbled in carelessly, a wide smirk on his face. 

"Hey." He slurred, brushing the hair from his face. Gerard was completely oblivious to what was going on as he trudged past, collapsing sideways on to his bunk. 

They knew non of them could carry on the conversation now, which let Frank off the hook. Four of them nodded to each other, getting up and leaving the tour bus in silence. Mikey stayed behind for a second, shooting a look at Frank, one that meant he had to talk to him. Sitting down, Frank let out a groan of frustration, scratching his head, making his hair tangled. He heard glass shatter from behind, which startled him, causing him to gasp quietly and whip around to see what had happened. 

There was broken beer bottle on the floor, Gerard's hand was hanging off the side of the bed. It wasn't long before he came to the conclusion that the singer had passed out and allowed the bottle to fall from his grasp. Sighing, Frank wandered over it, careful not to tread on any shards as bent down to pick them up to throw them in to the bin. "I'm sorry." A quiet voice mumbled from beside him, resulting in him jumping a bit as he hadn't expected the black haired boy to talk at all. He thought he had been rendered unconscious again.

Frank forced a smile, "it's okay." It came out like a whisper, but he hadn't intended it. His throat was dry from not drinking for hours. 

"I-I can clean it up." Gerard offered, propping himself up on his elbows, trying to keep his eyes open, but they kept closing. 

The guitarist shook his head, "no, it's fine. I'll do it..." He trialed off, wondering how he was going to bring up the subject that had been discussed earlier. But, he just couldn't. The singer seemed so innocent, Frank could imagine Gerard doing anything like that, it was hard seeing him drink himself to unconsciousness because he just didn't seem like the sort of person who would do that. Yet, there he was, slowly destroying himself bit by bit as the days passed. "Ger-" Frank stopped, glancing at the black haired boy, who was already asleep, breathing through his mouth with one of his hands hiding most of his face. 

The guitarist swept up the rest of the glass shards, then chucked them in the bin. Thankfully, he hadn't trodden on any. He decided to just let Gerard sleep - which he seemed to be doing an awful lot of. 

~ 

Finally, it was their time to go and perform. Frank had woken Gerard up just over half an hour ago. And, already, he was wasted. As soon as he had woken up, the singer had gone straight for the beer. Of course, Frank had supposed he would. The guitarist was mentally scolding himself for not stopping Gerard after his first drink, or before the liquid had even come in to contact with his chapped lips. 

Now, they were all stood up on stage, the band playing the instruments quietly as Gerard talked over them, pacing back and forth on stage. "Alright." He started, running his fingers through his hair. "How many ladies we got here today?" He asked, receiving screams from the girls, who began jumping up and down. "I can't hear you. How many fucking ladies have we got here today?" More shrieks filled their ears, making Gerard's head hurt more than it already did. "I want you to do us a favour-" He paused, taking the mic away from his mouth as he coughed in to his hand, brushing his hand on his skinny jeans after. 

"You're gonna be going to rock shows for the rest of your natural lives. Right ladies? And you're gonna see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands, who are gonna come up to you and ask you, to show your tits for a backstage pass. You know what I want you to fucking do?" He questioned, pointing the mic at the crowd for a moment as he walked to the opposite side of the stage. "I want you to spit right in their fucking face!" He shouted, earning more screams from the audience. The music gradually got louder, until Gerard started singing along. 

     
So far, Frank was positive. Nothing bad had happened, nothing had gone wrong. There was only one part that had been a bit of a downer. But, he had brought it upon himself, so he couldn't really complain. Half way through one of the songs, the guitarist had jumped up on to Bob's drums, causing Bob to shoot daggers at him, which then made Frank feel bad. Although, he couldn't really blame anyone apart from himself. 

Mikey had been too focused on his guitar through most of the performance and had barely looked up from his instrument. Ray had been more active than that, but he didn't stand on any drums like Frank had done. No, he stuck to the moving about on stage and frequently singing along with Gerard in to a mic he had on a stand. 

The black haired boy smiled a little as he screamed the lyrics, jumping about on stage and sometimes tripping up, but he had managed to catch himself before he fell over. "I'm okay." He whispered. "I'm okay! I'm okay, now. I'm okay now-but you really need to listen to me. Because I'm telling out the truth." He paused again, smirking as he stepped backwards, Frank stepping forwards. "I mean this, I'm okay." 

The guitarist smiled, leaning in to Gerard from behind so he could speak in to the mic. "Trust me." In the moment, Frank let go his guitar and tangled his fingers in Gerard's hair before kissing his cheek quickly. It was over quite fast as Frank hastily grabbed his instrument again to continue playing. The black haired boy just carried on as normal. 

For a second, Frank could have sworn he spotted Bert in the crowd, glaring at him with his arms folded, as if to say 'back off'. It unsettled him, so Frank turned away, putting his attention on to something else other than Bert.

~ 

After a long day, all Gerard wanted to do was sleep peacefully, yet, he found himself wide awake at one o'clock in the morning, staring in to the darkness. All he had on was a pair of old, ripped skinny jeans, which were starting to bag on him, a worn out band t-shirt and a pair of boots he hadn't bothered to take off yet. It was rather cold and Gerard was lying on top of the sheets, not bothering to get properly in because he had been debating in his head for some time, whether he should go outside or not. He'd always loved it at night, it was better than the sun - in his opinion. 

Eventually giving in, Gerard climbed out of the bunk, made his way over to his bag, then unzipped it as quietly as he could. Hoping non of the others woke up, he fished out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter, smiling to himself when he found them. Not bothering for a jacket, the singer trudged outside, silently closing the door behind him. After listening out for anything for a short minute, he lit the end of the cigarette, instantly putting it to his lips. As the smoke flooded his lungs, he relaxed a little, putting his head back to gaze up at the pretty stars. 

The influence of alcohol had started wear off a couple of hours ago, so now he desired a new distraction. 

Although, when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind, he knew it wasn't that kind of distraction he wanted. Gerard took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he listened, wishing to the stars for it to be all in his head. Blowing smoke in to the pitch black night, he opened his eyes again to watch it disappear, just as the footsteps stopped and he felt a rough hand on his shoulder. 

~ 

He was being badgered, again. It was beginning to become a daily routine. For at least four days now, Mikey had been on his case, listening in on every word he had said to Gerard, though non of them had been the ones Mikey wanted to hear the most. Frank really didn't understand why Mikey didn't just confront his older brother. "I'm not doing it, Mikes. I don't want to piss him off." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he turned his back on him, now looking out of the window. "If you want me to do it so badly, you do it yourself." 

Mikey groaned out frustration, giving in a bit. "Whatever. Keep an eye on him, will you? Take care of him." 

"Of course." Frank smiled slightly, surprised the bassist had to even ask. "I always do." 

"'Cause you know I won't always be here to fix his mistakes." 

"Where are you going with this... Are you ill?" He asked, hoping it wasn't true. 

"No, no." Mikey shook his head. "I'm not ill. I just can't mend his mistakes by myself all the time. I need someone there to help me, to back me up. You know?"

The guitarist nodded in response, glancing back over his shoulder at Mikey, who slipped on his jacket as he told Frank he was going to meet Ray and Bob at the café they had discovered a few days ago. Honesty, the café wasn't too good, the coffee wasn't the best they'd had and the service was lazy, but, seeing as they didn't know the area too well, they settled for it.

All in a matter of seconds, he was alone, again. He didn't like the feeling of loneliness because it was depressing and made him shut off from the world for a little while. Usually, Frank switched his phone on and listened through his playlist before actually deciding to do anything. But, his normal actions of listening to music was put on hold as he spotted something annoying out of the window. 

In the not-so-far distance, he could see Bert and Gerard out of the window - practically attached to each other. That alone made him shudder. As the guitarist went to pick up his phone, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. 

The black haired boy shook his head as Bert kissed his neck. Eventually, after minutes of Bert not listening, Gerard tried to push the singer from The Used off of him, which resulted in Gerard's hands being pinned to the wall beside his head. "No pl-please don't." He said, shaking his head again. "Bert, I-I'm not in the mood." 

"Yes, you are. Trust me." Bert replied, ignoring Gerard time and time again, until the black haired boy had had enough. 

"Get off me!" Gerard shouted, successfully shoving Bert back and off of him before it got too out of hand. But, The Used singer wouldn't stand for that - in his mind, that wasn't acceptable. A loud sound joined the muffled talking from others as Bert slapped Gerard clear across the face, causing tears to burn the singer's eyes, his head being turned to the side with the amount of force. 

Anger. Pure anger bubbled up inside of Frank. He was livid at the fact Bert would even think of doing that. No one else around was bothering to question it and continued on with their lives. The guitarist would have understood if the people would have appeared to have been busy, but, they weren't. So, it was left up to him to do something about it. "Bastard." Frank muttered under his breath. Grabbing his hoodie, he headed out of the door and marched straight over to where the two were standing. 

As he gor nearer, Frank could see the tears trickling silently down Gerard's face, the scowl upon Bert's face and the red mark that was starting to show on the black haired boy's pale complexion. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Frank growled, a ring at Bert, who just shrugged. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He stated, acting all innocent, putting his arm around Gerard, who hung his head so his hair fell over his face. 

"You know perfectly well." Frank snarled, growing tired of Bert already. It was unforgivable to him, yet Gerard seemed unfazed by it. 

The singer stepped forward a little, raising his head to look at Frank through his dark hair. "It's f-fine, Frank, leave it. Pl-please. It's fine." He begged, looking at the guitarist with a desperate expression. 

"No," Frank scoffed, "it's not fine. Gee, he hit you." 

Bert laughed, tucking his hair behind his ears. "You're imagining things. I didn't lay a single finger on it. Did I?" He asked, turning to Gerard, who bit his lip, shaking his head hesitantly. 

"I can't believe this." Frank breathed. "Bert, quit playing games. I fucking mean it. If Gerard says stop, you stop. You don't carry on until he has to physically push you off of him. Even then, you don't have any right to slap him." He exclaimed, gesturing the red mark on Gerard's pale skin. 

"I guess this is wrong too." Bert smirked, confusing Frank, who was sent back, falling to the ground as Bert punched him square in the face, causing his nose to bleed. The guitarist stared at him with wide eyes, lost for words. The whole situation was ridiculous. "See you around, little man." The singer from The Used snickered, walking away, one hand grasping Gerard's tie to tug him along. 

Frank put his hands under his nose to catch the blood as he stood up, unsteady on his feet. Words and further actions failed him, all he could manage to do was stumble back to the tour bus and clean himself up. 

~ 

Like every other night, Frank was laying in bed awake. He couldn't blame worries this time, it was partially because Mikey, Ray and Bob were talking beyond the sound level for him to hear anything else. The amount of time he had told them to be quiet, were countless. Not learning from past experiences, Frank got out of his bunk - again - and trudged over to them, hitting them each on the back of the head with his pillow, somewhat playfully. "Some. People. Are trying. To. Sleep." He scolded, chucking the pillow across the room when he was done. It was only then, that he realised he would need it. 

"It's not our fault you go to bed so fuckin' early." Mikey huffed, glancing over his shoulder at him from where he was sat. 

"It's-" He paused, checking his watch, squinting in the dark. "Eleven... Fifty two." 

"Well done. Now that we've established you can read the time, will you please go back to your bunk and loath us quietly over there?" Bob retorted, earning daggers off of Frank, who was fuming. Smoke could have come from his ears. 

"We're doing another concert tomorrow. We all need sleep. People need it to function properly. And believe it or not, you do too. Unless I am correct in assuming that you're not a part of the human race." Frank responded, picking up another pillow and throwing it at Bob, which he caught.

Ray sighed, switching his gaze between the other two. "He's right. It's not fair. I don't know about you, but I don't want to fall asleep while performing." 

Reluctantly, Bob and Mikey stood up, saying "whatever" in unison as they headed to their bunks. Ray followed, clapping Frank on the shoulder as they all shuffled past him, murmuring a "good night". 

"For the love of God, finally." He breathed, climbing in to his own bunk, ready to fall fast asleep. Even though he was comfy, it was silent and there was the quiet tapping of rain to listen to, he remained awake. The fact that Gerard hadn't returned was making him anxious and worried. 

What if Bert had done something else? 

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head, Frank rolled over on to his side and did his best to get some rest. 

He was sure his friend would be fine. 

~ 

Shortly, after the guitarist had fallen asleep, he was woken up by the sound of unsteady footsteps. Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up in his bunk. Staring in to the pitch black was no help. But, from where he was, he didn't think he could navigate the light switch or lamp. Assuming it was the singer, he called out in to the darkness, "Gerard? You okay?" 

"I'm fine." Came the response from right next to him, catching him a little by surprise. Gerard sniffed, sitting down on the floor to take his boots off. A couple of minutes of silence passed before he spoke up again, "are-are you okay?" 

Frank nodded, only then realising the black haired boy couldn't see him. "I'm alright... Why?" 

Putting his shoes neatly in the corner, Gerard whispered, "you're nose was bleeding... Bert sh-shouldn't have punched you... I'm sorry..." He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve before shrugging his jacket off and dumping it on the floor. He didn't bother changing his t-shirt or skinny jeans, so he got in to his bunk, wrapping the covers around him. "I shouldn't have stood u-up to him in the first place... Frankie, I'm really s-sorry..." 

Almost immediately, Frank shot up in bed, nearly banging his head. "Gee, you had every right to stand up to him. He was treating you like an object to be played with." 

The black haired boy took some time answering, "it's okay... I-I know he doesn't mean it." 

The guitarist's lips parted slowly, his mind taking in what his friend had just said. He hated how Bert could get in to Gerard's head and manipulate him so easily. They both knew he didn't deserve to be treated that way. However, Bert had Gerard blinded. He had Gerard confused. "I don't want you to get hurt." Frank admitted, resting his head on his pillow, taking a handful of the material in his clenched fists. He swore, if he ever saw Bert doing something like that again, he was going to beat the hell out of him. Worst of all, he seriously meant it. 

No further reply was given from Gerard as the boy was exhausted and drifted off to sleep easily. Though, it wasn't peaceful.


	5. Chapter 5

It was horrible. He didn't know what had caused it, though, he had a rough idea. The feeling was aching in his chest, making him feel as if someone was constantly crushing his ribs. Each cough hurt more than the last. Gripping the sides of the surface, he leaned over the sink and stared at himself in the foggy mirror. Taking a shower had made him feel a little better. (The shower they had on the tour bus wasn't the best, it was barely used and it was small, but Gerard couldn't stand being dirty any longer, hence the hot shower.) 

After feeling dizzy, he had stepped out and tied a towel around his waist, then his chest had started aching like nothing he had felt before - not that bad. Now, he was shaking all over, scared of what he had just brought up. To cough, naturally, he had shut his eyes, although, when he had opened them, he hadn't expected anything quite like it. It was troubling him, sending him to dark places in his thoughts. Nothing good could come of it. 

There was blood in the sink. 

Perhaps, he just had a normal nose bleed. Although, he would have known because he had been studying his face in the mirror for some time. So, he was terrified. Deciding to forget about it as fast as possible, Gerard turned the tap on, washing the evidence away. Maybe he had imagined it. Making himself believe that was the logical and correct answer, he gathered his dirty clothes and walked over to a carrier bag, the one which meant he had to wash whatever was in there later. Gerard picked out some clean clothes: ripped skinny jeans, black shirt, black suit jacket and a red tie. 

Just as he was about to get changed, Frank appeared behind him. The singer had thought they had all left when Bob had told him they were all going out. His back was to the guitarist, Gerard knew he had seen it now. 

"Gerard..." Frank gasped quietly, staring at his friend in shock. To the left on his back was a mark on his skin, colours of yellow, blue and purple swirled together, forming a bruise. "What happened?" 

Words failed to form a proper sentence as Gerard stumbled around, picking up his clothes in one hand and holding the towel around his waist with the other. "I-I... Nothing. I fell." His face turned red as he became even more embarrassed and nervous as he stood there. "I fell and knocked m-myself on the corner of the table." He lied, pivoting on his heel to face Frank, who had his arms crossed over his chest, but a look of sadness on his features. 

"Are you sure? Gee, don't lie to me." The guitarist pleaded, stepping a little closer to Gerard, who shuffled backwards, fearing what was to happen next. 

"I-I'm sure. It w-was an accident." The singer stuttered, nodding his head. "I have to-to get dressed. Please, Frankie." He whimpered, hugging his clothes closer to his chest as if he were protecting something, or, most likely, himself. From the world. From something that was threatening him. 

Sighing, Frank scratched the back of his head and stepped backwards, away from Gerard, who instantly rushed off again to hide. He was angry. The guitarist knew perfectly well that Gerard was lying, that he was hiding something behind closed doors. Things such as that, couldn't afford to stay secrets. He was going to have to start demanding answers. The whole situation was growing ridiculous. 

~ 

Their stay was coming to an end and frankly, non of them wanted to go back to New Jersey. Even though life on the road, living in a bus, was hard, they all still loved it - some a little more than others. Performing every other day was a wonderful feeling and gave them a sense of accomplishment, that maybe, just maybe, they had saved a life up there. Gerard had said at the start, that he wanted to change lives for the better with the music they created. And the other band members had agreed, they too, hoped that their music would capture the attention of someone and possibly make their lives a little bit better. 

But, now they had to return to New Jersey, where Gerard would stalk back down to the basement, Frank would lounge around the Way's house, Mikey would spend his time laughing and joking around with Bob and Ray. 

 

Currently, Frank was sat facing out of the window, ignoring the world around him as he searched for something. He didn't want to, yet there he was, overthinking everything. The blank expression and the lack of movement was the complete opposite of his racing thoughts and pounding heart on the inside. Yes, he was overthinking things again. He just couldn't help it. There was something going on that he didn't know about, but he had no idea where to start searching or asking. It all led back to Gerard somehow. He was he main cause of Frank's restless mind. 

Groaning in frustration, the guitarist slammed his hands on the table, his forehead following close behind. He heard someone gasp behind him, then a small laugh. "Don't do that." Mikey hissed. "You scared the living shit out of me." 

"My bad." Frank smirked, bringing his head back up to look at Mikey, who had seated himself across from him. "What's up?" He asked, now knowing the younger Way brother probably wasn't going to move unless he had said what he wished to say. 

"Have you-" 

Frank interrupted him, instantly knowing what he was going to nag him about. "No. I have not. For fucks sake, you want me to talk to him so badly, you do it yourself." He growled, leaning back in his seat before running his fingers through his hair, a scowl on his face. 

Mikey snorted, "alright. Not what I came over here to say, but at least you got your thoughts across." He paused, taking a sip of the drink he had been holding. "I came to ask if you had made sure you got everything ready." 

"Why?" 

"We're heading back home tomorrow, remember? Our last concert here is today. I don't want you leaving anything like you normally do... Last time you left your guitar back stage and we had to go all the way back to get it." 

Frank sighed, feeling guilty for snapping at him previously. "Yeah, yeah, I got everything." He breathed, getting up and walking to the door. Before he left, he turned back, giving Mikey a small smile, "I'll wait on stage until it starts. No one's here yet, so..." He trailed off, receiving an 'okay' from Mikey.

~ 

Gerard didn't want to admit it, but he was nervous. His last drink had been hours ago, maybe even yesterday. He didn't know. All his thoughts were mixed up, making him feel confused and light headed as he stood backstage next to Frank, who had Gerard's head resting on his shoulder. "You alright there, Gee?" The guitarist questioned because he hadn't heard a single word come from Gerard's mouth since yesterday. 

Hesitantly, the singer nodded as he was passed a microphone, the anxiety in him rising. There were only ten minutes left and he knew where he could get a beer in that amount of time. "One minute." He mumbled, leaving Frank confused as he rushed away, dropping the microphone, heading straight to where Bert was: in the corner with his band, which were on after them. "Can I have-can I have..?" He stuttered, pointing to the beer in Bert's hand. 

"Sure." Bert smirked, handing Gerard a bottle he had had next to his feet, a full one at that. With out any hesitation, Gerard brought the bottle to his lips once he had opened it, gulping down the burning liquid that stung his eyes and made them water. "Slow down." Bert chuckled, staring at the singer, who was lost in the numbing sensation, ignoring everyone as he tried to drink it as fast as he could. 

Sadly, that only resulted in an upset stomach. Stepping back one, Gerard let his hand fall to his side, the half empty bottle nearly slipping from his fingers. Suddenly, a sharp pain started in his chest, causing him to cough deeply. Stumbling over to the nearest wall, the singer leaned back against it, putting his hand over his mouth as the coughs only grew worse, hurting his throat and stabbing his chest with each breath. Eventually, the bottle fell from his loose grip, smashing in to shards when it made contact with the ground. Sliding down the wall to the floor, Gerard shut his eyes, resting his head back against the wall as he coughed one last time. Only this time, he noticed the blood on his hand, the dark substance that stood out on his sickly pale skin. Words failed him, his eyes flooding with tears. It was starting to crumble around him. Each little good aspect of his life was forming in to a bad one, closing in on him until he couldn't breathe. 

Allowing the tears to fall and the whimpers to escape his lips, Gerard put a hand to his head, tugging on his hair aggressively. He was angry at the world, mad at himself, most of all, he was on the edge of giving up. 

A hand was placed on his shoulder before a figure sat itself down next to Gerard, putting their arm around his shoulders to pull him in for a hug. The singer leaned in to their chest, wrapping his arms around their torso. By the scent, he automatically knew it was Frank. And he was thankful for the guitarist for simply being there as he broke down. 

"You'll be okay, Gee..." Frank whispered in his ear, stroking his greasy black hair absentmindedly. Nothing else mattered at all as they sat there, not giving a damn about anyone who passed them. More tears trickled down Gerard's face, soaking in to his hair and distorting his vision. Frank rested his head gently on the top of Gerard's head, interlocking their fingers together. "It's okay Gerard... We'll all be okay." He continued to whisper, reassuring himself as well as the boy in his arms. 

After a while, he spoke up again, "shall we cancel the concert? We can go straight home now if you like?" 

Hastily, Gerard wiped his eyes, shaking his head, "no." Breathing heavily, he rubbed his hands on his skinny jeans, getting rid of the dry blood on his palm. He hoped Frank didn't see. He didn't want him to worry, or know at all. 

"You sure?" Frank asked again, receiving a slow nod from Gerard. "Alright." He sighed, pushing himself up off of the floor, careful not to hurt the singer in any way. Gerard remained still, hugging himself with his head hung low. The saddest expression plastered itself across Frank's face, the whole scene made him want to cry too. Holding his hand out, Gerard took it gratefully, pulling himself up to stand unsteadily on his feet. 

"D-do I look like I-I've been crying..?" Gerard mumbled, now embarrassed. 

"No." Frank smiled slightly, brushing the hair away from Gerard's face. "But, it wouldn't matter. People don't cry because they're weak, they cry because they have been strong for too long." He stated, earning a the smallest smile from Gerard, who tugged anxiously on his sleeves, biting his lip. 

~ 

After what had happened last night, Gerard was too embarrassed and mad at himself to get out from under the covers. The concert had carried on as normal, he had sung his heart out, singing some of the songs with so much aggression in his voice, he could have kicked the drums off of the stage. Some of the people in the audience must have sensed that because a few of the people in the front row had seemed scared, others had joined in with enthusiastic expressions on their faces. 

Frank had kept an eye on Gerard since he had witnessed their lead vocalist break down before a show. He had decided, for the sake of Gerard, to not tell Mikey. Yet. He knew he would have to tell him at some point, however, for now, it was a secret. There was one upside to arriving home that Frank had enjoyed immensely: Bert wasn't there. The singer from The Used was no where to be seen as they entered the house, dumping their things inside before they all collapsed on to the sofa, or floor. Exhausted.

Ray and Bob had decided to crash at the Way's house again, sleeping in the spare bedroom. One on he bed, the latter on the floor this time. Frank might have well have stayed as well, so he did. Mikey had no problem with it, although, Gerard had been hesitant. He'd told his brother that he had some things to take care of first. Mikey had insisted that they wait till later, when they didn't have company. So, in the end, the singer had given in. It was a full house again. Non of them cared as they shared beers, lounging about in the living room, sharing stories or jokes about themselves and other people. At the time, the black haired boy had found it quite amusing. But, he hadn't had known whether it had been himself enjoying the extra company, or if it was because he had drunk three beers by the time the others had had one. 

Now, he was buried in the covers of his bed, happy to be back on his own comfy mattress, no one bothering him, no loud voices could sound down in to the basement. It was quiet. While Mikey, Bob, Ray and Frank were all upstairs still, Gerard had descended in to the dark. As he lied there, he thought of what would become of him, what he would be doing in five or so years. All he could imagine was a gloomy alley surrounded by glass shards and junkies. 

A hiss escaped his lips as a sharp pain sparked through his head, causing him to sit up in bed and screw his eyes shut. The ache lingered, but the throbbing pain subsided after a couple of minutes. Instead of just lying there, waiting for sleep to engulf him, Gerard threw the sheets off of him and wandered up the stairs, past the other rooms and to the top floor of the house. He stumbled in to the bathroom, banging his shoulder on the door frame. 

As soon as he was in, Gerard slammed the door shut, leaning back on it for a moment, rubbing his stinging eyes. Scratching the back of his head, the black haired boy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, opening the cupboard to reveal what he hadn't taken in just over a week. Coughing as quiet as he could managed, Gerard grabbed the pills off of the shelf, popping the cap off. A sigh of regret left his lips as he tossed his head back, taking the pills dry. Though, he didn't know how many. 

All the energy he had drained from him, his body becoming limp as he rested back against the wall, sliding to the floor until he was lying on his side. In his hands, he still gripped the bottle, staring at it intently. Black dots clouded his vision, his consciousness being stolen away from him with each agonizing second. That didn't matter because the footsteps running up the stairs were far more important. It was only then, that Gerard realised a scream had left his lips, catching the attention of the people downstairs. Soon those footsteps turned in to the knocking on the door, which was ringing through his ears. It was like he was hearing everything through a tunnel. He wanted to cover his ears and hide in the corner, but he didn't dare move. He couldn't. 

Finally, the blackness consumed him completely, denying him anything as he drifted in to unconsciousness. Not knowing when he was next going to wake up. 

"Gerard?"


	6. Chapter 6

Frank was furious. Everyone knew he was furious. It was clearly written on his face as he paced the living room, only stopping when he got dizzy from spinning on his heel a little too harshly. Mikey was pissed too, but seemingly not as aggravated as the guitarist in front of him. Gerard was sat on the sofa, his knees to his chest as he hugged his legs, shaking, staring at the floor as he waited for Frank's anger to bubble over. For a shorter man, he had a hell of a big temper. Though it was rare and this, sadly, was one of the times that the band witnessed it. 

Mikey had stated firmly that it was a family matter, a sensitive one at that, so he had told everyone else to go home - including Frank. But, the guitarist had been very persistent in staying. Gerard was best friend and he would die for him, so he wasn't leaving. Not at a time like this. Not now. Not when he had to be there as much as he could for the troubled boy seated on the couch. 

Biting his lip, Gerard held back the tears which were fighting ever so hard to spill over. He couldn't break down again. Not in front of the two most important people in his whole life. Struggling to keep his emotions in check, he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jeans pocket, then his lighter. Unfortunately, for him, Frank was all too quick in snatching them off of him. His mouth parted for a few seconds before he actually managed to say anything. "I-I- Frank, please. I need them. I-I'm sorry." Slowly, he rested his hands in his lap, staring up through his dishevelled black hair at Frank, who had the most frustrated expression on his face.

"Sorry?" He scoffed, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry?" He took a stride closer to Gerard, watching the poor boy flinch when he edged nearer. Doing his best to ignore what that could have meant, Frank walked backwards, stopping in the middle of the room. "You're always fucking sorry, Gee. We never know, maybe one day you'll mean those words. Because right now, it's all you ever seem to say and you don't even try." 

Mikey caught on to the silent whimpers that Gerard let out, seeing his eyes scrunch up in defeat. "Uh, Frank." He whispered, gesturing slightly towards his older brother. 

Frank shook his head, putting his hand up at Mikey. "No, Mikes. I've been too soft on him already. Sympathy and kindness don't seem to be working. He's not sorting himself out." He growled under his breath, rubbing his eyes, pretending like Gerard wasn't even in the room with them. It made it easier to express what he had kept locked up. "There are only so many times he can screw up before I stop being nice." 

Mikey sighed, switching his gaze from his older brother to the floor, a part of him knowing Frank was right. He tried think of an arguement to back Gerard up, but his mind went blank, only filling his brain of the many times he had watched Gerard waste himself on cheap beer until he collapsed.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself down, Frank slammed the cigarettes and the lighter on the table, glancing over his shoulder at Gerard. "You have to quit this, Gee..." He paused. "It was only a few days ago that you nearly overdosed yourself." 

Gerard coughed deeply, chest aching with each breath as it felt like acid was burning his throat. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, he discovered more blood on his pale skin. Quickly, he hid his hand from anyone's view, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. However, Frank still noticed. 

He fucking noticed.

"What's that?" He asked, snapping a little harsher than intended. Mikey furrowed his brows, looking between his friend and his brother. 

Panicking, his breaths coming out shaky and short, the singer shook his head, "nothing, Frankie, n-nothing." He tried sounding strong, but his voice cracked and faded to a whisper. Scowling, not taking anymore of it, Frank marched up to Gerard, who sunk back in his seat, wishing he was invisible. Mikey stared, his frown deepening. It was all crumbling at their feet, all the secrets were about to be spilled, he could sense it so easily in the air, which was thick with tension. Hurriedly, Gerard wiped his hand on his jeans as Frank stood a mere meter away. Not registering his own actions, Frank reached out roughly, gripping Gerard's wrist tightly, causing the singer to flinch and wriggle his hand in the guitarist's grasp. "Please." He begged, staring up at Frank with damaged hazel eyes that held so much pain and terror, Frank had to let go. 

Mikey stepped up, putting himself between the two, prodding Frank in the chest. "Don't touch him." He snarled, shoving Frank back a few. Realising his stupid anger that had been kept quiet had got the best of him, Frank hung his head, raking his fingers through his hair. Hesitantly, he sat down next to Gerard, placing a hand on the singer's thigh, leaning in and resting his head on Gerard's shoulder, making Gerard wince. Lucky for him, it went unnoticed.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, earning a better glance from Mikey.

"It's okay..." Gerard mumbled, not daring to move, fearing if he did, it'd hurt even more than it already did. 

~ 

Oh, he was stupid. So very idiotic and he knew it. Though, he did nothing about it. His room was a mess, a growing mess that couldn't be cleaned in less than a good hour. It would have taken ages to find something in the bomb site he called a bedroom, or rather, a basement. Even though it was messy, he had still succeeded in finding his spare packet of cigarettes. It was just one. He had repeatedly told himself that he was going to have only one to calm his bloody nerves. As he stared at the packet, a full blown debate was going on inside his head. They had a concert in a matter of minutes and his anxiety levels were rising steadily. He stood backstage, facing away from everyone else, grip slowly tightening on the packet, crushing it in his hand. 

It was for the best. 

Obviously, it was for the best. Although, that meant nothing to him as he snatched one, chucking the rest away out of annoyance. For he knew he wouldn't stop if he kept them. 

A hand was placed on his shoulder from behind, making him shudder. They grinned wickedly, digging out their lighter and putting the flame to the end of Gerard's cigarette, which was now hanging from the side of his mouth. "Got any for me?" Bert asked, placing his other hand on Gerard's stomach, earning a shiver from the singer, who wasn't in the mood at all. 

Gerard hung his head, hiding behind his greasy hair. "I threw them a-away." He pointed in the general direction he chucked them, staring at Bert worriedly from the corner of his eye, giving himself a headache in the process. 

"Damn." Bert grumbled, his hand gradually falling lower. "I'll need something else in its place." 

Gerard shook his head, shuffling away from Bert, who just dug his fingernails in between the bones of the black haired boy's shoulder blades. "No." Gerard stated, brows arching together, prying Bert's hand off. "Th-this time I-I mean it. No." His voice cracked and shook multiple times, to his disappointment. 

Bert let out a weird laugh, snatching the cigarette from Gerard's lips and taking a drag himself. "I'm not fond of the word 'no'." He said, smoking sailing in to the air and disappearing in a matter of seconds, the smoke catching Gerard's attention briefly, setting his eyes on something other than the man in front of him. 

"It used to-to be fun, Bert." Gerard coughed, scratching his fingers through his hair. "It's not anymore. I w-want to quit, I can't carry on a-and I don't like it anymore." He stuttered, failing at masking his insecurities with a brave face. Flicking the cigarette to the floor, Bert put his fingers under Gerard's chin, forcing the boy to look at him. 

"Think twice about what you just said, then don't say it." He spat, shoving the singer's head back as he turned to walk away. Just in time too because Frank showed up, looking excited as he jumped up and down a little on the spot, oblivious. 

"Come on, Gee, we're on." 

~ 

Back in his bunk. The comfy space he could lie in peacefully while the others were out, partying supposedly. Gerard had decided to remain alone in the tour bus if he was to get better. He was going to try. It had been a few days since his last intake of alcohol and it was worse than when he was drunk. 

There were sharp pains racking his body, stinging his eyes, drying his throat, pounding in his head and causing him to shake to the point where he couldn't make a cup of coffee with out spilling it. 

He just wished for it all to stop. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted the pain to go away. He wanted Bert to stop. He wanted the tears to stop. Everything. Just everything. 

The singer knew that was too much to ask. If he wanted it all to stop, he would have to make it stop. Though, for that he would have to move and his body was too far beyond weak to accomplish that. Gerard had been lying down on his back for most of the day, feeling his mind waste away as he lied there, completely motionless, to the point where he couldn't tell if he was really awake or asleep. The hours had ticked by so slowly. He didn't know what time it was, although, he knew it was the middle of the night. The temperature was dropping and the blankets he was buried in didn't help that much. 

It was freezing. 

~ 

Gerard must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he knew, he was being quite violently shaken awake, the person leaning over him were practically dislocating his shoulder. He mumbled something incoherently, not having the energy to form a fully strung sentence. Wincing as he shifted, he moved so he was lying on his side, hands supporting his head and hair over his eyes, keeping the light out from the lamp the figure must have just switched on. 

"Get up, motherfucker." They hissed, not giving up that easily. 

Slowly, Gerard shook his head, putting his arm in front of his eyes on the pillow, blocking anything from his view if he were to bother to open his tired eyes. He was truly exhausted. Even though all he seemed to do was sleep, he still felt worn out. 

"Get up." The person demanded, hitting the wall of the tour bus next to the bunk, causing a shock pain to surge through Gerard's head at the unexpected sound. 

Sighing, reluctantly, Gerard forced his eyes open, blinking repeatedly to try and get his eyes to focus. Although, it got him no where as the figure was still blurry. The more he stared, the worse his vision became. "What?" He sniffed, eyes eventually shutting again. 

"You look fucked, man." They said, glancing over Gerard - a little more than they should have. Finally, the black haired boy recognised the voice belonged to Bert.

Sighing deeply again, he replied sarcastically, "th-thanks." There was a dip in the mattress, letting him know the singer from The Used had just sat down beside him. A hand was placed on his shoulder, not shaking him this time, but instead, it was kind of comforting. 

Bert took no time in getting to the real point of the conversation. "So," he started, shifting on the bunk, trying to get reasonably comfortable. "I was thinkin' there's this party on Sunday. Quinn told me it's gonna be big. I know you get back to Jersey by Friday. I'll pick you up Saturday, then we can go." 

It was a party, obviously there was going to be alcohol and other things that Gerard was trying to quit and stay far, far away from. "I-I can't go." He admitted, looking at Bert from the corner of his eye, making his head hurt more with the strain. 

"You can and you will." Bert narrowed his eyes at the singer, who shrunk back, wrapping his skinny arms around his skeletal frame. 

He hated saying "no" to Bert, Bert wasn't one who liked to be told "no." Yet, there Gerard was, attempting to stand up for himself, secretly terrified on the inside, that feeling transfering in to the expression on his features. "I can't. I-I'm trying to get clean, Bert..." He took a deep, nervous breath, switching his gaze to the floor. "I-I can't go, al-alright?" 

Quickly, Bert arose to his feet, glaring down at Gerard, hand raised in the air. Knowing what that meant, Gerard shielded his head with his hands, tugging on his hair. But, somehow, weirdly, Bert couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he kicked an empty bottle across the room, the glass shattering in to sharp shards, which Gerard only stared at, almost mesmerised by it. Angrily, Bert stormed out, shouting one last insult at the black haired boy, before leaving completely, allowing utter silence to fall over the atmosphere, letting Gerard's nerves calm a bit. 

~ 

Frank entered, the rest of the band close behind him as they all crowded on to the bus. Mikey kicked his shoes off, Ray chucked his hoodie to the side and Bob discarded his jacket, throwing it on top of Ray's. They all quietened down, thankful to be back in a warmer environment. Outside was bitter cold and it made their faces freeze. "Well," Mikey muttered, making his way to his bunk, "I'm tired as hell. See you idiots tomorrow." He flipped them off jokingly, climbing in to his bunk with a sigh, deciding to get changed in to some pajamas under the sheets because it was so cold. 

Winter was most definitely coming. 

"I'll second that." Ray yawned, checking his watch, sighing in annoyance when it was too dark to see it. 

Bob patted Frank on the shoulder when he passed him, "night, Iero." He breathed, following the others, getting in to his bunk. All of them went in the same path as Mikey, changing under covers. 

The guitarist glanced around, scratching the back of his head. It seemed he was the only one left standing. Also, he was the only one, apparently, smart enough to turn on the light. He chuckled when heard some annoyed words sounding from the three bunks. "My bad." Frank snickered, turning it off and putting the little lamp on instead. Running his fingers through his hair, Frank crouched down to untie his laces. Then he spotted the glass shards littering the floor in the far corner. Sighing, he kept his shoes on, for now, and shuffled over to pick the pieces up.   
    
     
Once he was done, Frank did what he always did and checked up on Gerard, who he found in his bunk, lying on his back, on top of the sheets. The guitarist wondered how he wasn't freezing his ass off. "Gee?" He whispered, seeing if he was pretending to be asleep, or just plain resting. After receiving no verbal answer in return, just a quiet, incoherent word and the sad arch of his eyebrows. Sometimes, Frank would have liked to know what went on in Gerard's head, what he dreamed about. He didn't think of himself coming off in a creepy way, just mildly curious. 

Gerard wasn't wearing a jacket either and the white shirt he was wearing was ripped in a couple of places, allowing Frank to see a little of what Gerard looked like. It wasn't the best. The guitarist could still see Gerard's ribs clearly, his chest rising with everything deep, shaking breath he took. 

That was when Frank's heart dropped, his mood sank in to the depths of the ocean. There was a mark; blue, purple and yellow in one swirl, creating a bruise on Gerard's side. The colours were only just visible in the small tear of his shirt. Out of growing curiousity to see whether his mind was playing cruel tricks on him, Frank carefully unbuttoned Gerard's shirt, hoping he didn't wake up, otherwise it would have made for the perfect awkward conversation. When they were undone, Frank could clearly see an ugly bruise scarring Gerard's pale skin, just where his ribs were. The longer he looked, the more he wished to not believe it. His eyes trailed up to Gerard's collar bone, finding other marks, bites even. 

It was upsetting. 

Frank knew he was invading Gerard's privacy, but he didn't particularly care when his friend could have possibly been in some sort of danger. Someone was hurting the singer. And Frank had a pretty good hunch on who it was. He buttoned up Gerard's shirt again, then slid the covers out from underneath him, draping them over the black haired boy's skinny frame. 

~ 

He couldn't sleep. Perhaps he was over thinking things again, like he always did. Frank just couldn't help it. So, for what seemed like hours, he lied awake, staring in to the darkness. 


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday. The day Gerard was dreading most because that meant tomorrow was Sunday. But, unlike any other Saturday night, instead of being curled up in his basement, he was curled up on the floor in Bert's place, biting his lip until it started to bleed. The whole room smelled like smoke, beer and other things Gerard didn't want to mention in case he began thinking about it for real. It was only the evening. 

At first, Frank had been suspicious about where he was going, he probably still was, but Gerard had left before Frank had had a chance to interrogate him. The black haired boy knew he would have cracked under pressure. He couldn't keep lying to his the guitarist, yet there he was, shoving lies right in to his innocent face. Frank didn't deserve it, he hadn't done anything wrong, he wasn't screwed up in so many ways as Gerard knew he himself was. 

Frank had just chosen the wrong friend to care about. 

The singer pushed himself up to sit, resting back on the wall as he pulled his legs to his chest, putting his head on his knees. Muffled talking was coming from all different directions, there were a fair amount of people there and he didn't trust, or like, or know, or want to be around any of them - except bert. Even then, he didn't want to be with him very much either. 

So far, he was proud of himself. At his hand there was beer, cigarettes and other curious things, yet he hadn't let any of them touch his lips. With all the insecurities he felt at that moment weren't helping with the strength to stay away, but he was resisting it - for himself and Frank.   
    
~ 

The night went by quickly, Gerard found himself feeling sick, out of it. While everyone else was enjoying themselves, he had chosen to remain in the corner, keeping to himself and only peering at people through his greasy hair, not daring to show his face, let alone make some sort of eye contact. 

"Gee?" A voice called. Gerard found it strange when he realised it wasn't Frank who had said it, usually he was used to the guitarist calling him that and he preferred to keep it that way, but he didn't care tell Bert what he could and couldn't say.

Slowly, Gerard got to his feet, brushing his hair back out of his face as he made his way through the crowd over to where he had heard Bert's voice come from. When he slipped past people, he swore he could feel hands on him in inappropriate places, though there were too many people around to dodge anything. And that made his anxiety levels rise higher. Finally, he reached Bert. He only knew because a hand tugged him, rather roughly, away from everyone else. That, he was grateful for. 

"Wh-what is it?" He stuttered, messing with the hem of his sleeves, darting his eyes anywhere but the man in front of him, the one with the beer in his hand that Gerard just wanted to snatch off of him. 

Bert shifted his weight to his other foot, placing the bottle on the floor by his feet before speaking, "you gotta loosen up. Your shoulders are so tense, you look like anything could make you jump five feet in the fucking air." He chuckled. "Relax." The singer from The Used said with a smirk, walking around Gerard, who froze on the spot, only looking out of the corner of his eyes. When Bert was behind him, he clapped his hands on Gerard's shoulders, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Though, Gerard didn't quite hear what he said, but he could feel his warm breath on his neck. "Here." Bert mumbled, beginning to take Gerard's jacket off. 

"No, no, I want to keep it on." He refused to take it off, starting to grow self conscious. 

"Come on." Bert sighed, ignoring Gerard's pleads and whines as he slid his jacket off, dumping it to the side on the floor. "Now, do something. Drink, snort, relax, I don't fucking care. Just stop looking like a dead deer caught in headlights." He mumbled, waving dismissively as he walked over to a couch, falling back on it with his hands clasped behind his head. 

Suddenly becoming extremely self conscious and slightly embarrassed, Gerard wrapped his arms around his torso, hiding the bruises that littered his skin, the ones which were visible through the rips in his well worn shirt. He just wanted the night to end, then tomorrow to speed past so he didn't have to struggle through two days of staring at other people drinking. Especially when he couldn't have any. 

~ 

The black haired boy found himself being jerked awake by a harsh kick to the stomach. He winced, eyes immediately opening as he curled in to a ball on the floor, hugging his knees close in case anything else were to come. "Get up." Bert ordered simply, picking his hoodie up from the sofa before trudging out the door and in to the kitchen of his apartment. Pushing himself up off of the floor, Gerard coughed, sending shock waves through his entire body, mainly the pain pounding at his chest. Shivering in the cold atmosphere of the room, he could still see some other people he failed to recognise on the floor, on chairs, or lying across the couch. 

"Get a move on." Bert demanded impatiently, poking his head around the door briefly before banging on the wood to let Gerard know he was growing bored with waiting - even though, it had been less than a minute. 

The singer staggered over to his jacket on the ground, crouching down to pick it up. When he stood again, black dots clouded his vision and his head burned like fire. Already a headache and he hadn't even left the room yet. Not bothering to check his appearance, Gerard followed Bert out. Apparently, he should have checked the time because when he stepped outside, he could see it was dark. The moon was high in the sky, stars dotted the black canvas and street lamps lit the roads dimly as cars drove past. 

Hurriedly shrugging his jacket on, he also noticed it was raining. Not heavily. The kind of rain that felt like nothing until he stepped under shelter and realised how soaked his clothes were. 

"What-what time is it?" Gerard shuddered, tugging his jacket around him tighter in the howling wind. 

"Ten o'clock." 

"I-I don't understand." He whispered, watching Bert, who dug his keys out on his pocket, unlocking his car. Still no answer or explanation was given as they both got in, Gerard in the back so he could lie across the back seats, that was, of course, if the owner of the car allowed him to, which he reluctantly agreed to with a scowl. 

"How could you not understand?" Bert scoffed, shaking his head. "Do I need to spell it out to you? It's ten o'clock. At night." He added, smirking at the horrified, wide eyed expression on the black haired boy's pale face. Gerard hadn't realised he had slept in all day, it had only felt like minutes, not to mention, he was starving. There was only a good side to sleeping in all day and that was that it had gone by so quickly - something he was highly grateful for because time would have dragged on otherwise. 

"And... You didn't think t-to wake me up?" 

Shaking his head like he couldn't care less, which he really couldn't, Bert pulled out in to the road, more or less paying attention to the traffic ahead. Gerard didn't like it when he was behind a steering wheel, the singer from The Used wasn't the most careful person when it came to driving, most of the time he'd be multitasking - and that scared Gerard, to the point where he wanted to grab Bert by the shoulders and shake him until some sense was in his head. 

Of course, he would never actually dare to do anything like that to Bert, sometimes he was afraid to even stand too close to him. Although, that disappeared when there was alcohol in his system, so most of the time, Gerard was almost fine being around him. 

"Why would I wake you?" Bert asked, switching his gaze between his phone and the other cars. "It's not like it's my job or anything. Anyway, you look nice when you're sleeping." He admitted, the tone in his voice not faltering from monotone. 

Smiling the smallest bit, Gerard hung his head, peering out through his tangled hair. "H-how come..?" 

Bert shrugged, tossing his phone on the passenger's seat, taking a right turn. "You don't look so messed up. Your face just kinda... Relaxes. You don't look so tense or shaky." 

There was one particular phrase that stuck in Gerard's mind. Furrowing his brows, he questioned hesitantly, "m-messed up..?" His voice shook, yet he let out a bitter laugh. "You think I-I am messed up?" 

The other shook his head in protest, glancing at Gerard in the mirror before taking a sharp turn, causing the singer to hit the window as he had forgotten to put his seat belt on. "No, course not. I don't think you're messed up." Bert paused, checking his phone while going a little over the speed limit down the road, making Gerard worry, but sigh quietly in relief. So, he didn't think he was messed up? "I know you're messed up." 

The black haired boy's eyes widened slightly, his face forming a scowl and a glare, sending secret daggers at Bert. "I am not messed up." He defended firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"No... I mean, why would you be?" Bert commented sarcastically. "It's not like you smoke a thousand cigarettes per day. It's not like you drink until you don't know what you're doing. It's not like you're desperate for something to snort whenever you show up at my door with the most shakiest fucking hands I've ever seen. It's not like-" 

Tears brimming his eyes, Gerard shook his head, shrinking back in to the seats. "Stop, fucking stop. Shut u-up." He demanded weakly, wrapping his arms around his torso, bringing his knees up to his chest. Everything he did was being told to him a once, making him realize what he was actually doing to himself. Gathering some courage, he retorted, "and you don't? You're just as messed up as I-I am. You do everything I do. You-" 

Pulling up in to a space outside of the desired location, Bert slammed the breaks on, then whipped around to glare at Gerard. "Don't talk to me like that. Gerard, you better quit it before I shut you up myself." He threatened, earning a slow nod from the black haired boy, who kept his eyes trained on the night sky outside. With out another word, he pushed open the car door and stepped out, waiting for Gerard to do the same. 

Very easily, they could tell which house it was, even if they were stood a mile away. Music was blaring from the speakers, lights were flashing constantly from every hole in the building it could find, there were people running around outside with drinks in their hands, drunk out of their minds as the boys chased the girls. It reminded Gerard of some sort of university party - not that he ever went to any. He was always the one who heard about them, then got wasted on his own and drowned in self hatred and pity. 

A wide smile was spread across Bert's face, receiving an odd look from Gerard. What was he so happy about? 

~ 

He had tried calling, but that was concluded hopeless after the sixth voicemail. So, Frank had become worried with each electronic beep after the recorded voice telling him each time his friend couldn't answer the phone at that minute - or any minute for that matter. Even Mikey had tried calling and texting, though it was proved absolutely no use. Maybe the black haired boy was asleep, or busy. But, it was Gerard, so it obviously wasn't going to be that simple. 

The last time Frank had seen Gerard was last night when he had disappeared with out giving anyone a hint as to where he was going. Now, it had been at least nearing, or over, twenty four hours. Twenty four hours with out any contact of any kind. 

Naturally, after the things Frank had seen over the past few months, he assumed the worst. The only thing that he could think of was that party, the one that he had heard of from Quinn. The fact that Quinn was one of Bert's band members made Frank more anxious about the whole situation. It was only twenty four hours though, what was the big deal? 

Frank's imagination played a big part in the big deal. 

"I'm going!" Frank shouted up the stairs to Mikey, digging his car keys from his pocket. 

Footsteps sounded above his head before a Mikey appeared at the top of the stair case. "Where?" He asked, gradually making his way down. 

"To find Gerard. My mind is too stupid to think it's nothing, so I'm going. Yeah, I know, it's probably nothing at all and he's sleeping and whatever, but I'm incredibly pessimistic. Well, half the time." He rambled on, getting stopped by Mikey before he could talk any more. 

"Yeah, alright. I was going to wait until tomorrow though, 'cause, you know... It's midnight." He exclaimed, shooting an annoyed look at Frank, who put his hands up in a fake surrender. 

"Well, sleeping beauty, go back to bed. I'm not tired so I'm going to that party Quinn was talkin' 'bout." Happy with the slow nod he received from the younger Way brother as an answer, he yanked the front door open, a gust of wind smacking him hard in the face. Because, fuck, it was freezing. "Oh joy." He mumbled, stepping outside, slamming the door a little too harshly behind him. 

~ 

Clearly, it was the crowded place with the beaming lights, beating music and drunken people. Frank didn't like it already, so he parked a few streets away, not wanting his car to be thrown up on, or trashed, or have someone stupid ruin it for 'fun'. Stuffing his numb hands in his pockets, he paced along the pavement, hesitating as he reached the correct place. Was he sure he wanted to go in? After all, he didn't even know if Gerard was there for sure. 

To his disappointment, he spotted Bert's car not so far away, giving Frank another persuasive possiblity that his friend was there. "Great..." He breathed, speed walking in to the building. Immediately, he was smacked with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, unhealthy food and other things he'd rather not mention. It looked like the perfect place to be screwed. Reluctantly, he carried on, pushing his way through the crowd until he came to a bigger opening, the kitchen. It was better than the cramped hall way. He knew it was no use to try to call out Gerard's name. He was surprised he could hear his own thoughts over the music, the loud sounds making his head pound. He'd only been in there less than five minutes and he already wished to leave. 

Sighing, Frank turned back around, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Everywhere he looked, there was some sort of couple making out, or someone being plain idiotic. 

Deciding to go to the bathroom because the whole atmosphere was making him feel nauseous, he squeezed past people, hurrying up the damn stairs, still dodging various couples. It was unfamiliar, so really, he had no idea where he was going. Either way, he was going to empty the contents of his stomach one way or another. Whether it was all over the stairs or the floor, he didn't particularly care too much. There were bound to be more people doing the exact same thing. Only difference was, Frank had the decency to attempt to get to the bathroom. 

As he walked past the bedrooms, luckily something caught his eye. A familiar red tie, black dishevelled hair and pale skin. Though, when he got a better look, he wished it wasn't his friend. It had been unexpected when he stormed in through the open door, scowling angrily at a drunken Bert that was leaning over a very wasted Gerard, who was unconscious, head rolled to the side, a beer bottle held loosely in his fingers while he had Bert's hand on his inner thigh, creeping higher and higher. 

It was disgusting.

Bert was taking clear advantage of someone. 

Someone unaware and passed out in a chair.

"Get away from him." Frank growled, fists clenched by his side. In his mind, he was asking rather politely, given the current predicament. To his small fortune, the music was that bit quieter upstairs, so Bert was able to hear him well enough, seeing as Frank was close to screaming. 

The black haired boy appeared to have heard him, somehow, too because his eyes fluttered open lazily, struggling to focus on anyone properly. "Oh, hey, Frankie." He giggled, hand clutching the bottle tightly, bringing the drink to his chapped lips. He had failed to keep the promise to himself and the guitarist, but at that point he didn't care. The amber liquid was fogging his mind and burning his throat. That was enough for him. He seemed unaware of the man beside him as he tossed his head back, downing the rest. When finished, he coughed, dropping he bottle on the floor next to him, his body going limp again as he gradually passed out. 

Bert chuckled weirdly, standing up straight, ignoring the words Frank had spoke previously. "What do you want?" He slurred in a bark, raising his eyebrows as he trudged unsteadily over to Frank, nearly tripping over. 

Feeling suddenly intimidated, Frank stepped back one, though stayed in the room, glaring at Bert with a hatred so pure it would have killed him if Frank had it his way. With out thinking too much about it because he would have had half the brain to stop himself, Frank brought his hand back before throwing it at Bert's face, punching him square in the face, nose starting to bleed. The singer from The Used gaped at the guitarist, bringing a hand up to catch the blood pouring from his nose. "Bastard." He grunted, eyes widened a little, he had underestimated what Frank would do. 

"And yet I'm still a better fucking man than you." Frank retorted, crossing his arms over his chest before kicking the door frame with the side of his foot. He didn't know what to do, a part from stand there at the scene, glaring at Bert, who was beginning to walk off in to the joining bathroom of the bedroom, muttering profanities under his breath - ones aimed directly at the guitarist. 

Running his fingers through his hair, Frank shot a quick glance at Bert, then walked over to Gerard, who was still sat in the chair, completely oblivious as to what was happening around him. He had been doing well. Now, he had broken his promise and let, not only himself, but Frank and Mikey down. "You were supposed to get better, Gee..." He murmured, crouching down so he could look up at Gerard. The singer was barely awake, not processing entirely what anyone was saying, or what was going on. Knowing Gerard could listen to at least some of it, Frank began rambling on, getting a little more of his pent up emotions out, while Bert was still attending to his bloody nose. "You were supposed to stay away and you were supposed to get better. You were supposed to change." 

A deep breath escaped Gerard's lips, his eyes slowly focusing on the guitarist. He wanted to talk, to answer back, although, his mouth wouldn't move, his voice wouldn't work and all he could do was stare hopelessly back at Frank. 

Bert trudged back in to the bedroom, raising his eyebrows at Frank. "I think you're being a bit rude." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You don't come in a room before knocking." He pointed to the hall, gesturing for Frank to get a move on and leave. "Bye, bye." 

Frank was seemingly lost for words, mouth opening and closing, yet no words came out, no confidence arose in him to shoot back. What could he do anyway? It wasn't like he could carry Gerard out. Though, the more he stood and thought about it, the fonder he became of the idea - it was better than leaving him there, defenceless, so Bert could use him for what he pleased. "No." Frank gritted, clenched his fists by his sides, shoving Bert out of the way as he went over to Gerard, Bert stumbling back in the process. "Gee?" The guitarist said, gently shaking the singer's shoulder, hoping Gerard's mind was clear enough to walk, or carry on a conversation and respond accordingly. "Gee, come on, you need to get up." Frank told him, louder this time, competing with the volume of the music. Sighing, he hooked his arms under Gerard's, helping him out of the chair so he could move. Ignoring Bert's drunken, lousy protests, Frank draped Gerard's arm over his shoulders, practically carrying him out. They made it to the top of the stairs, then the guitarist started to doubt how much strength and balance he had for the two of them. 

Finally, after many breaks on the stairs case, they managed to duck past people, avoid getting thrown up on and to the car safely. Just as Frank yanked the car door open for him, the black haired boy took a sharp breath, stepping back, pushing Frank away from him as he doubled over. Clutching his torso, he collapsed to his knees on the pavement, emptying the little contents of his stomach. Arching his eyebrows sadly, Frank stood beside his friend, placing a hand on his back, a silent way of telling him, somehow, it was going to be okay. 

At some point, it was all going to be okay. 

Luckily, they had lost Bert back there. He hadn't seemed to have cared enough to even bother to try and chase them down. For that, Frank was thankful. 

Gerard let out a choked sob, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his dirty jacket, feeling overwhelmingly ashamed of himself. He closed his eyes, wanting the dreading feeling to disappear, his mind fading in and out of consciousness, nearly falling asleep every second. He felt two arms wrap around him, pulling him up off of the ground. Sighing heavily, he rested his head on their shoulder, grateful for the assistance - he needed it. 

Frank helped his friend up, trying to be as gentle as he possibly could be. Right then, he just wanted to get the hell out of there. After allowing Gerard to lie down on the back seats of the car, somewhat hesitantly, he climbed in himself, smacking the steering wheel out of frustration as soon as he was sat down. Ignoring the law, he didn't bother with his seatbelt and drove off, escaping the horrible atmosphere of the party. Gerard looked fine in the back, even when Frank drove over the speed bumps, he remained asleep. 

~ 

"Where did you find him?" Mikey asked curiously, scratching the back of his head anxiously, thanking God to high heaven that Frank had brought his brother back home. 

"Some party." Frank mumbled, not taking his eyes off of the back haired boy's limp form. "It looks worse this time, Mikes." He sighed, holding his head in his hands, elbows digging in to the hard surface of the table. 

"What do you mean?" The younger Way brother questioned. Eyebrows furrowing together, he sat down opposite Frank, a serious expression on his face as his mind raced with all possible outcomes. "What do you mean worse?" He repeated once Frank hadn't replied in a couple of minutes.

"It means..." Frank sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It means... This is more than just alcohol. He-he... He coughed up blood Mikey, I saw. He tried to hide it once, but I saw it." He trailed off, glancing at the black haired boy, then staring back at the table, tracing the cracks in the wood with his eyes, refusing to meet Mikey's gaze. 

The bassist let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in and slouched back in the chair. "Well..." He stopped, not knowing at all what to say. Not knowing at all what to do, how to act, where to go, where to look, what the hell to say next. Except: "do you think he needs professional help? A therapist?" He added after receiving a confused look from Frank. 

The guitarist raised his eyebrows, "a therapist?" He whispered, suddenly listening intently to what Mikey had to say. "That's-that's... He wouldn't in a million years agree to see a therapist." 

Nodding, he sighed, scratching his fingers through his hair. "I know... But what else can we do?"


	8. Chapter 8

It was horrible. His head ached with a piercing pain that wouldn't go away. The sun had risen hours ago, footsteps had sounded above his head hours ago, letting him know they were awake. They thought he was still asleep, he just couldn't face any of them while conscious. The black haired boy was feeling absolutely awful for what he had done. He'd gone back on his promise and allowed himself to be taken a hold of by alcohol - something he wasn't proud of in any way. Guilt was weighing down on him like bricks stacked up, every breath adding to the pile. 

Sighing deeply, Gerard rolled on to his side, watching his hand fall limply in front of him, his head resting on his arm. He couldn't remember much of last night, but he knew it was terrible because the stinging in his eyes, the burning in his head and throat already gave him a good idea. Bert had been involved either way, that was evident. 

Rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, Gerard slowly got to his feet, pushing himself up and away from the bed as he stumbled across the floor to the small adjoining bathroom the basement had. It saved him the trouble of going upstairs. For that he was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do was look Frank right in his gorgeous, hazel eyes with the words he couldn't bare to speak.

Leaning on the door frame for support, the singer trudged over to the sink. Turning the tap on, he bent down to splash water in his face. To wake him up, he made sure it was freezing so it made him more aware of what was going on. The feeling of being half there and half gone was starting to grow annoying really fast. Luckily, the water was indeed freezing and it startled him a little. Before he left, he switched the tap back off and gripped the sides of the sink, staring off in to space for a few minutes. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Gerard raised his head to look at himself in the mirror. No one could call him healthy anymore. He knew that for a fact as he examined his reflection in the mirror with great concentration. It had been ages since he had properly looked at himself in the mirror. And what he saw, was a sorry sight to see. Frowning, the black haired boy noted the dark rings around his eyes, the cuts on his dry, cracked lips, the marks on neck and the grease in his hair. It was all disappointing. Shaking his head, Gerard turned away, walking back over to his bed and collapsing side ways on to it, landing awkwardly on his side, hurting his bruises in the process. He'd forgotten he possessed them. 

To calm his nerves and numb his brain even further, he reached in to his pocket, digging out his cigarettes - the cancer sticks that helped him relax. 

To some extent. 

Gerard groaned in frustration when he couldn't find his lighter. It was the only one he had, which even surprised him. He was so concentrated on that at that moment, he never heard someone enter, or the creak of the door as they stepped in. "Looking for something?" The asked, receiving a quiet gasp from Gerard, who froze in place, his back to Frank, head down and eyes closed briefly. Slowly, the singer nodded, shifting in his place to face Frank, the one who smirked a little as he held up the lighter in his hands. 

"C-can I have it?" He asked, outstretching his hand hesitantly, which was shaking, something he didn't seem to notice. But Frank did. He always did. He tried to make sure he never missed when something was wrong. In fact, he could see Gerard's whole body was shaking. Maybe he was just cold, the basement was the least heated place in the house and Gerard only had his shirt on. The jacket he usually wore was on the bed beside him. The red tie he always wore was hanging loosely around his neck. 

Sighing, Frank shook his head, "no, you can't. It's confiscated... For now." He stated, earning a hint of a glare from Gerard, who remained quiet, keeping his mouth shut and eyes averted from his friend. Frank sat on the bed, cross legged, gesturing for the singer to sit next to him. Which he did, somewhat reluctantly.

Gerard didn't look anywhere near Frank and kept darting his eyes around the room, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "Why-why did you come down? I'm n-no fun at all." He chuckled weakly. "Y-you should be up there with M-mikey." 

Frank shook his head again, "I came down here to be with you."

"Why..?" 

"I don't need a reason, do I?" Frank murmured, shifting around on the mattress until satisfied with how he was sat, mostly though, he didn't know what to do and he needed to do something other than just sit in the awkward blanket of utter silence. Slowly, Gerard shook his head, biting his lip as he played with the hem of his shirt. 

"I-I guess not..?" 

Sighing, Frank decided to come out and say what he had wanted to say, and do, for a fair amount of time. Over the past few weeks, he had seen some things, bad things. He'd been a witness to Bert's abusive behaviour and lack of self control at parties when he had a beer in his system. He had stood and watched as Gerard would be used as a friend to do drugs with, to drink with and his body was used for meaningless sex with a certain someone, who Frank had detested since he had layed eyes on him. From the moment he had sensed something wrong with the two singer's relationship, he should have stepped in. But he didn't. Because he was scared. Frank had been scared of screwing his friendship up by saying the wrong words. Now, all he could think of, was saying the right words. The right words mattered a lot in this particular situation and Frank wasn't going to chuck the opportunity away. 

So, with out any more stalling, Frank sucked in a deep breath, looking Gerard right in the eyes. "I need you to trust me." He whispered, reaching out and taking Gerard's hand in his. "I need you to tell me the truth. I need to see what he's done to you." 

"H-he hasn't-" 

Shaking his head, Frank cut him off, "I know, Gee. I know you come home in tears some nights, I know you wince every time you move a certain way, I know you keep all of this hidden away because you're afraid." He paused, letting his words sink in. 

Gerard only stared at their interlocked hands, tracing one of Frank's tattoos with his finger, listening intently to what he had to say. By now, his heart was racing at a million miles per hour, but he tried to remain calm on the outside. There was no point in denying it all now. He knew Bert was going to be mad. He knew it was all going to crumble around him. Plus, this time, Frank was on the line too. And that was what he had been trying to avoid. 

Frank continued, "all the times I've stood by and watched are moments of regret. I should have stepped in. I should have helped. And, for that, I'm sorry, Gee." 

"I-its not your fault." Gerard whispered. "I know h-he doesn't mean it. It's not that bad..." He trailed off at seeing Frank's expression change completely from sympathetic to angry. 

"Not that bad?" He scoffed, sighing deeply and swallowing the hatred he held for Bert. It wasn't a torch he had in Bert's favour, it was a fucking fire that was fuelled by the fact he despised the singer from The Used so much. What he had done was unforgivable. 

The bastard had manipulated Gerard for far too long, it would take years for Gerard to be back to the way he was. Back to the sarcastic, kind, sweet, outgoing person Frank had previously known him to be. Though, things might not ever be the same again. Gerard might not fully recover, but Frank just wanted him to be okay. And he was going to stay with the black haired boy through all of it. All. Of. It. Frank wasn't going to turn his back on Gerard and call him helpless. 

"Gee, he's hit you, he's gotten you addicted to dangerous substances, he's gotten you wasted and while you were out cold, he had used you..." His voice cracked. Frank scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, looking up at Gerard, who had his eyes cast downwards, hair over his pale face and his hand was squeezing Frank's so tightly, he could have cut off the blood circulation. But, Frank couldn't have cared less about that in those moments. "I want to help." He stated, receiving a single nod in return. 

"I-I want to get clean." Gerard admitted, nearly inaudibly, letting out a deep breath he'd been holding in. Anxiously, he raked his slender fingers through his hair, all of the bad thoughts invading his mind, bullying all of the good thoughts to remaining unknown to him. "Bert... H-he'll-" 

"Don't worry about Bert." Frank interrupted, smiling a little as he tucked Gerard's hair behind his ear so he could see his hazel eyes. "Mikey's taking care of that problem right now." 

The singer's breathing hitched and he snapped his head up to look at Frank. "Wh-what do you mean?" He gulped, rubbing one eye with his free hand. 

"He contacted the police. Don't worry. He never mentioned your name, only the fact that Bert had drugs. The police would be in the middle of a drugs bust right now." He explained, earning a relieved sigh from Gerard. The smallest smile spread across his lips as he felt tears flood his eyes. And, for once, he wasn't crying because he was sad. He was crying because a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a bad person had been expelled from his life. Now he had a chance at a happier ending to his twisted fairy tale. Frank couldn't help but smile as well, seating himself properly beside Gerard, putting his arms around him as the black haired boy buried his head in the crook of Frank's neck. 

"Thank you." He whispered contently, shoving away the bad thoughts one by one. Staring off in to the darkness of the basement, Gerard furrowed his brows. Had he heard Frank correctly? "What..?" 

"I said... Can I see them? C-can I take a look at what he's done? I need to know nothing is too serious." Frank repeated, feeling Gerard grip on to his shirt worriedly, shaking his head against Frank's chest. "Please?" He stressed, gently holding his friend at arm's length now. 

Slowly, hesitantly, and certainly reluctantly, Gerard nodded, regretting he had done as soon as he did. He didn't want Frank to see what a mess his body was. He didn't want to feel even more embarrassed and ashamed of himself than he already did. Sending a reassuring small smile at Gerard, Frank started to unbutton the singer's shirt, watching as Gerard shivered and shook under his touch. He tried to be as gentle as possible while removing Gerard's well worn shirt from his bony shoulders. 

"I'm sorry." The guitarist said instantly when Gerard winced, closing his eyes. As Gerard turned around so his back was facing him, Frank gasped quietly at the purple, yellow and blue bruises that were scattered on his friend's back, at the marks he had, at the severity of it all. "Gee, you should have told someone. Anyone. Me, Mikey, Ray, or even Bob. Someone should have known about this." He paused, scowling. "I swear to god, I'm gonna kill Bert." 

"Frank, it's o-okay now. You said it yourself. H-he's being sent away. Isn't he?" 

Frank nodded, "yeah, he is. You won't have to see him anymore." He got up, walked over to Gerard's wardrobe and searched around for something comfortable for him to wear. They were going to sort out his scars later, for now, Frank just wanted to hold the black haired boy in his arms and tell him it's okay until he believed it. Pulling a plain t-shirt off of the hanger and a soft hoodie to go with it, the guitarist wandered back over to Gerard, passed him the clothes, then sat down, sitting on the side of the bed that was next to the wall. When Gerard was dressed, Frank patted the space beside him, meaning for his friend to lie down with him. Which he did. The singer pressed his body up against Frank, who draped his arm over Gerard's waist, holding him close. 

They remained silent for several minutes, enjoying each others company, until Gerard spoke up in a weak voice. "Do you-do you think I-I'll get better..?" 

Frank thought about it for a moment. Of course, it would take time, it would take patience and support. But, he was sure Gerard was going to get better. He was sure the black haired boy was strong enough to get clean, to sober up and to climb out from the hole he had dug himself in to. They were going to take some time away from the band. Frank was going to focus on helping his best friend. So, with a hopeful smile, he answered simply, truthfully,

"yes, I do." 

The End

~~~

Does anyone want me to do more of this story?  
A sequel?


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